A Game of Cat and Mouse
by IWatchTVStaticAndThinkIt'sFun
Summary: Meet Kurt Hummel (aka, Porcelain. An infamous criminal that has been alluding the NYPD for years.) Meet Blaine Anderson (The detective who's been trying to catch him for the last five of those years.) Ten minutes in a room together and Kurt has already helped him solve an investigation. Before you know it he's a consultant for the NYPD. And they have no idea about his past.
1. Chapter 01: Assasin

**A Game Of Cat and Mouse**

**(Revamped and edited on 18/05/13)**

**Chapter One: Assassin**

A tall and thin man stood in front of an open window. He stared out at the lights of the new york city skyline as his body against the moonlight caused a shadow to be cast on the floor of his hotel room, a cookie cutter shape of a man in the small rectangle of light in the other wise dark room.

A crescent moon shone in the sky and the sounds of the infamous New York traffic drifted up to where he sat.

If one were to look in through that window it would immediately become apparent that the man who stayed there was one of money. The king size bed and luxurious en-suite bathroom enough of an indicator of the wealth the man had.

The bed was made, its sheets made of silk. There was a night stand situated on either side, both on.. The lights created a bubble of dim light, reaching just enough of the room to make out the bed, coffee table and the other pieces of furniture the hotel room was made up of. Anything not within the reach of the light reduced to clumsy attempts of objects in the gloom.

A child would look out into the shows and be able to imagine monsters and ghouls out of the darkness, teeth and claws fierce and sharp, all with blood red eyes.

The man however had long out grown this and had seen an ugly side of life. He now knew the truth of monsters.

Not tangible creatures, instead in life monsters were the ghosts that followed you throughout your entire life, shadowing your every move as they remind you of the infinite amount of skeletons in your closet.

And Antony Motta had more than his fair share of those.

The father of the infamous party girl Sugar Motta. A rich man in his own right. It wasn't well known exactly what he did but whatever he was, it was important enough for someone to want him killed.

The assassin had been casing the hotel for a week, tracking the target, scoping the surrounding buildings and getting familiar with the layout of the building.

At that moment the assassin was in a room facing that of the targets.

He could see into the targets room through the very window that Mr Motta had decided to stare out of that night and brood.

The assassin prepared himself, getting out his weapon of choice; an average sniper gun with average bullets – this ensured no one could trace the hit back to him. He was _very _good at his job. Good enough not to get caught.

He walked out to the roof of the building opposite that of his targets – he'd chosen this building for the single reason that it faced the targets room.

Propping up his gun on the railing he fixed his eye to the scope.

The light in the targets room illuminated the target enough that his form could be made out well enough that the assassin could aim between his eyes sufficiently enough to get the job done cleanly and elegantly.

A loving caress of the trigger and a whisper of a smile crossed the assassins face.

A sharp movement with his finger and the bullet flew. It revolved through the air, silent as it sliced through the sky like a knife, the bullet sang as the air parted for it and it cut through the night like a knife through butter.

The bullet found the target and embedded itself in his brain neatly.

The assassin smiled once more, his job done, and calmly walked back to his gear. He packed away his weapon and left, making his way down and out of the building unhurriedly. Walking outside and a few blocks over, he went down into the subway and was gone without being noticed.

It was five hours later that Antony Motta was discovered dead.

* * *

**New York City Times**

**Antony Motta. Sugar Daddy. Business Man, Dead?**

_Antony Motta was discovered early this morning, murdered, in his hotel room. _

_In New York City on a business trip Mr Motta had only been there for three days before his murder._

_His wife has said she won't talk to our reporters, wanting to grieve in private, however his seventeen year old daughter, Sugar Motta, has been aiding the police on this matter and deigned to spare us a few words on her reaction to the sudden news of her fathers death._

_"I am _so_ sad!" Miss Motta hadn't hesitated in informing us. "He was like, the best and he was such a cool dad! He always bought me what I wanted and always said that nothing was too much. He called me his little princess." _

_Here Miss Motta had to stop briefly to compose herself but she did go on to say a few more words._

"_Daddy was always so happy and I know not many people liked him but that was just 'cause they were jealous!"_

_Miss Motta did go on to talk for twenty minutes or so after this, seemingly more capable of talking about her recently departed father but her mother, who was there at the time, requested the content not be printed. _

_We have consulted with the Police Department at the press conference following the discovery of Mr Motta's body and talked to the lead detective on the case._

_We've been informed that Detective Blaine Anderson does not normally work homicides or assassinations. He's been known for working in the white collar crime unit or investigating heists._

_"I haven't worked on cases like this before," the well spoken detective admitted at the press conference_

_. "However we have reason to believe that this crime was committed by the well known criminal Porcelain. Although he now tends to commit white collar crime and orchestrate heists he is known to have experience in assassination. As I am the department's expert on Porcelain I have been called in for this investigation." Detective Anderson then seemed to direct his next statement directly to the Motta family. _

"_Be assured that we will do everything we can to solve this case and give Mr Motta's loved ones closure."_

_Mr Motta was an incredibly well known business man in New York, although what his job entails we do not know for sure, and his contribute to the city will be missed._

_We at the New York City Times offer our condolences to the Motta family. _

**Quinn Fabray, Preggers? Read the full story on page 3.**

* * *

Rachel Berry folded the newspaper in half and put it aside. She reached for her glass of orange juice and took a gulp, in shock at what she had just read.

(Rachel Berry was a well known Broadway star and had gone to school at NAYDA).

Rachel went to finish up her breakfast, glancing at the newspaper occasionally in worry.

She had a horrid feeling in the pit of her stomach that she knew who had murdered Antony Motta.

Rachel shared an apartment with her best friend, Kurt Hummel and they both lived in New York. With the money Rachel earned working in the theater and Kurt's... unorthodox methods of making money, they were pretty well off.

She looked up as she heard keys jingle at the front door and took a deep breath as she readied herself for the confrontation that was to come.

"Hey Rachel," Kurt called from the hallway and Rachel heard him putting away his shoes and his designer coat and scarf.

She took a bite of toast and replied through a suddenly dry throat. "Hi Kurt," she replied, slightly offbeat as she thought on how best to approach the situation.

She took another sip of her juice to wet her throat and cleared it. "Hey, Kurt?" She called, her eyes still on the newspaper.

Kurt came into the kitchen, going straight for the coffee machine.

"Kurt." she repeated, starting to get slightly irritated at his ignorance of her.

"Huh?" He asked, stretching up on tip toes slightly to retrieve a mug for his coffee. "Sorry, Rachel," he said, glancing at her as he moved over to the coffee machine again and began fiddling with its buttons once more.

"What did you want, hun?" Kurt asked, as he seemed to remember that Rachel had needed him.

Rachel took a deep breath and bravely soldiered on. "Did you hear about Antony Motta?" she asked in once breath, glancing at him.

"No," he said, still not sounding like he was really paying attention as he took his coffee from the machine, blowing on it to cool it down enough that it would be safe to drink. "What happened to him?"

Rachel's mild annoyance turned into full blown irritation at Kurt's lack of attention and his nonchalance.

"He was killed, Kurt." She snapped, deadpan. Kurt's head snapped around in shock.

"_What?_" he said. "Like, accident killed or... murder killed?"

"Assassination killed, Kurt," Rachel answered, voice still tight.

"_Assassination killed?_" Kurt echoed in disbelief. Rachel now had his full attention. "Was it anyone we know?"

"I don't know," she answered, "the police have no idea." she took a deep breath, bracing herself. "Kurt, they think it's _you,_" Kurt answered his mouth to reply and hastily she added. "I think they're pretty serious Kurt, they've brought Detective Anderson on the case and everything." Kurt's mouth snapped shut as he tried to process this.

"... Give me the newspaper," he requested, holding out a hand and Rachel tossed it to him lightly.

He read the article quickly and snorted, tossing it back to her.

"They've got absolutely no proof," he disregarded. "They have no idea who it is and they've only jumped the gun in assuming its me because they need _something _to tell Antony Motta's family."

"Do _you _know who it is?" She asked, rising an eyebrow and Kurt snorted, conceding to her point. If he didn't know he couldn't make fun of the NYPD not knowing.

"I don't know." he said, taking a sip of his coffee as he finally started to relax, sinking back into their kitchen counter slightly. "Maybe it's Adam,"

Rachel stole herself once again. "It _wasn't_ you was it?" she asked quickly, in one breath.

Kurt looked at her like she was crazy and she could have sworn that he was also a little insulted.

"Why would I want to kill Sugar's dad? He was really nice at the Charity ball!"

"He was," she mused, distracted. "Although he did get a little drunk after we left. I remember Sugar telling me about it. She said it was really embarrassing and he almost started a fight when he fell head first into some woman's chest." Rachel seemed to shake herself and she went to bring the conversation back on track.

"Kurt." She dead-panned.

"Rachel." He replied in the same tone, seemingly quite amused know that he had the full 411 on the situation.

They both ignored the F.R.I.E.N.D.S rerun playing on the T.V and Kurt put some bread in the toaster. He returned to his spot against the counter as he continued sipping his coffee. He eyed Rachel in curiosity.

"Did you kill Sugar's dad?" She repeated abruptly.

"What?!" He exclaimed, shocked and choking on his coffee "Why on earth do you still think that?! I told you already, I didn't!"

Rachel scoffed, in her stride now. "Don't try and lie to me Hummel. You weren't home last night and I know you used to do that kind of thing-"

"Rachel I haven't done assassinations for years!" Kurt insisted, coffee forgotten for the moment. "You know I'm more into White Collar Crime nowadays!"

Rachel sceptically seemed to be accepting what she was hearing. "Wait, so you're saying you _didn't _ kill Sugar's dad?"

"No! I didn't! God Rachel!" Rachel had the decency to look abashed.

"Detective Anderson seems to think that-"

Kurt rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Detective Anderson_ again._ I thought we'd already agreed that he's only on the case due to the NYPD not having a fucking clue as to who _did_ do it!"

"Kurt!" Rachel reproached, taken aback at his cursing.

"Sorry Rachel," Kurt said, sounding anything but as he angrily glowered in her direction. "But I'm getting seriously annoyed at this entire thing." After a slight pause in their conversation Kurt exploded again.

"I can't believe you thought I did it!"

Rachel was the one to look annoyed now, her usual look of self righteousness morphing into a bitch face beyond the first degree.

"Well, sorry Kurt!" She exclaimed, "But you can't blame for being mistrusting considering Detective Anderson believes you may have something to do with it-" Rachel spoke louder as Kurt interrupted with a "We're back to Detective _bloody _Anderson now-?" "-and he's the lead detective on your cases for a _reason _Kurt!"

Kurt settled back against the counter, seething.

It _was _true, he couldn't argue about that.

As the lead detective on the Porcelain cases there was normally a two week period of Detective Anderson chasing after 'Porcelain' while Kurt lead him on a merry chase, simultaneously making forgeries and pawning the stolen paintings he acquired at the same time.

Admittedly, it was a game he liked to indulge in, where he fooled Detective Anderson into thinking he was about to catch him and then he got away in the nick of time after a witty conversation between the two of them.

However Detective Anderson was a sore subject in their apartment at the moment which Rachel well knew.

In their last altercation it hadn't been Kurt making Anderson look like the fool like usual, instead it was the other way round and Kurt admittedly got away just in the nick of time.

His pride was still a bit stung since that last encounter, though it would probably be fixed by the next time he and Detective Anderson met again, but it was still annoying in the meantime.

"Seriously Kurt," Rachel insisted. "They think it's you and whilst I'm not saying it is what if you get into real trouble? Someone may be framing you and we know how well that turned out _last _time."

Kurt's scowl deepened, the last time he'd been framed was the instance where Detective Anderson had made a fool out of him. But Kurt had to admit, Rachel _did _have a point but he doubted it would be that much of a problem.

So he waved away her concerns with a breezy, "Don't be silly Rachel. It's just a copy cat." she still looked concerned so he added, "Like I said, it's probably Adam. You know what he's like."

Rachel nodded. She did know.

Adam and Kurt had had a thing a while back, which they ended mutually, but every now and then Adam and Kurt had a brief period of time where they tried to one up each other as a competition of sorts and the two of them neither hesitated at a chance to screw each other over.

But Rachel wasn't too sure...

"You can't be positive though Kurt." she insisted. "Please be careful! You may have to lie low for a bit-"

"Rachel, Rachel, Rachel," Kurt said teasingly, shaking his head as if in pity, while his eyes were shiny like stars in anticipation and general fondness at her naivety. "You know me. I _neve_r lie low."

Two months, a pair of stolen Da Vinci's, seven long cons and a heist including a cocker spaniel and a jade statue of a tiger later and Kurt was sitting in an orange jumpsuit behind an interview desk.

Being in prison wasn't all that bad, in Kurt's opinion. You'd think it would be but he'd already met several nice people.

One of which was an Irish boy called Rory who wouldn't tell him what he was in for (although Kurt was pretty sure it had something to do with a leprechaun and a pot of gold, not that he was falling back on a stereotype of the Irish or anything).

A week after Kurt's conversation with Rachel and Porcelain's name was cleared. Detective Anderson declared the assassination was carried out by a copycat.

Kurt had asked Adam and he denied it many times but by no means did Kurt believe him or trust him on this.

When Kurt found out Detective Anderson had been called off the investigation due to it not being a Porcelain case, Kurt decided to celebrate the heat being taken off of him with a long con.

An extremely long con that lasted all the way up until Kurt was arrested.

The funny thing was Kurt hadn't been arrested for anything remotely to do with him being Porcelain or the work that that entails.

In fact, the police had no idea about that.

He'd been arrested because of a moment of public indecency. He didn't like getting in to it, it was far too embarrassing.

However it was what happened next which was the most interesting thing.

He was sitting in an interrogation room in prison, in an _orange jumpsuit_ no less and sitting opposite him was Detective Blaine Anderson, _who had no idea who he was_.


	2. Chapter 02: Blackmail

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

**(A/N: Thanks for following and reviewing guys :D This is the first fic that I've actually laid out a _plan _for so I'm really excited and I'm confident I'll actually finish it :) I hope you like this chapter :D)**

**(A/N: Edited and revamped on 18/05/13)**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_He was sitting in an interrogation room in prison, in an orange jumpsuit no less and sitting opposite him was Detective Blaine Anderson, who had no idea who he was._

**Chapter Two: Blackmail**

Understandably, Kurt was incredibly amused. And jumpy, but that goes without saying. Mostly though, he was amused.

Sitting across from him was Detective Anderson. A man whom he had laughed at many a time and who he had exchanged teasing banter with (in person and via anonymous tips to the NYPD) over and over again.

But what made the whole situation totally hysterical was the fact that Detective Anderson had no idea whatsoever that the very man he'd spent most of his professional career trying to catch was sitting opposite him _in prison uniform.  
_

Really, it was hilarious for someone in the know and Kurt was doing his best not to burst out laughing every time Anderson looked at him.

Anderson had entered the room five minutes before, had gone straight to the chair on the other side of the stainless steel table and sank down in his seat.

Then he'd looked down at his clipboard and hadn't looked up since.

He hadn't even introduced himself to Kurt! Not that he needed to since Kurt knew exactly who he was but still! It's the principal of the thing!

Kurt couldn't help but guess that whatever Detective Anderson was reading was incredibly frustrating because Anderson's eyebrows were pinched in concentration and he kept drumming the table with the fingers on his left hand as he read.

To occupy himself while he waited he studied Anderson in shameless curiosity. Kurt wondered if whatever it was he was hung up on had anything to do with a Porcelain case

This was the first time he'd had the opportunity to actually _look _at the detective, without having to concern himself with making sure that the detective never got too close and that he always had an escape route so you can't blame him for taking advantage of it.

When Anderson seemed to be finishing up Kurt looked in a completely different direction, pretending that the patterns in the ceiling were incredibly fascinating to him.

The detective cleared his throat and Kurt pretended he'd only just noticed he had company.

Hiding his smile, Kurt looked up and politely said, "Detective, I didn't hear you. Why have you requested to see me?"

The detective raised his eyebrows and set the clip board down on the table.

"You're incredibly at ease considering where you are," He noted, curiously. Kurt smiled, falling into their usual rhythm of banter subconsciously.

"I'm thinking of this as a kind of trial experience." He quipped. "I'm learning everything I need to know now in case I ever end up here again."

Although it sounded like he was joking, Kurt was quite serious. Kurt had made a mental note of every security man and camera he saw as he walked around and was starting to build up mental blueprints of the facility.

The detective snorted, amused, and nodded in a way which made it clear Kurt was being placated.

"Oh, of course, that's obviously the sensible thing to do in your situation." He said sarcastically. "I'd do the same thing."

He suddenly seemed to remember who and where he was.

"Okay!" he announced, slightly nervous if his voice was anything to go by.

"Mr..." he looked at the clipboard. "Hummel! I'm really only here for a check up. You know, this is normally grunt work."

Detective Anderson and Kurt's eyes met and for an instant it was silent in that room, save for the sounds of the two of them breathing.

"It's just that as I haven't had much to do recently I figured I might as well do it and save someone else the bother."

To anyone listening it would have sounded like Anderson was making excuses.

_Yes, _Kurt mused mentally, _you wouldn't have much to do. I've been in here for the last two weeks; not able to do anything... I wonder whether he's figured out how I did the Jade Tiger heist yet..._

Kurt didn't allow his thoughts to show on his face and instead smiled politely, crossing his legs under the table. Then he said, "Very well Detective. Was there anything you'd like to ask me?"

Kurt sounded professional and accommodating, which he instantly contradicted as he reached across the table and snatched up the clipboard, taking the detective by surprise as he ruffled through the pages.

"Ye- hey! You can't read that!" the Detective exclaimed and reached for the clipboard, reacting in a childish nature.

Kurt just pulled it out of reach, using his longer arms to his advantage.

"Oh, it's not hurting anyone," Kurt admonished. "Humour me." He said with a teasing smile, his eyes raking across the pages of evidence.

Detective Anderson rolled his eyes but leaned back on his seat and, as Kurt had so eloquently put it, humoured him.

Although he didn't look very pleased in doing so.

"Oh alright," Anderson said, exasperated but, not that he would admit it, also slightly amused. "Mr Hummel I wanted to ask you-"

"Hey you know this is Canadian right? Not Polish." Kurt looked up and the sudden question took the detective off guard.

"Wh-what?" The Detective cleared his throat as his voice croaked a little.

Kurt rolled his eyes and indicated to the clipboard he'd been looking through. The clipboard which just so happened to hold all the evidence from Detective Anderson's latest case, with Kurt's visitation details attached by a paper clip to the first page.

"This," he said and turned the clipboard around, passing it over the table while still pointing to the information in question.

"What, you mean the bill?" Anderson looked confused and slightly concerned as he pulled the clipboard out of Kurt's grip in order to get a closer look. "No I'm quite sure-"

"It's _not _Polish." Kurt insisted, pointing, the detective too immersed in what Kurt was saying and reevaluating the evidence to realise that he was listening to a mild public offenders opinion on police work which he shouldn't really know anything about.

"Look at the lettering." Kurt continued. "Canada is the only country that uses that kind of ink yet rounds the letters in that particular way." He then leaned forward slightly and peevishly intoned. "And you _do _know the number at the bottom is faked?" He rolled his eyes. "I mean you must, you're supposed to be g_ood _at this. It's not even faked _well." _He said in disgust. "I could have done better than this in my sleep."

Detective Anderson looked at Kurt sceptically, with a look of disbelief on his face, seeming to have finally come to his senses. "Uh huh. Sure. And what exactly would _you_ know about that?" The detective seemed to be trying his best to still be professional, slightly rattled at the show of Kurt's knowledge.

Kurt opened his mouth, about to say that Anderson knew _exactly _how much he knew about this kind of stuff and then make some lewd joke about him getting to know more but then remembered that it wasn't Porcelain talking to the detective.

It was Kurt Hummel, the random mild public offender that was supposed to not know anything about this kind of thing and who _definitely _shouldn't sound so familiar with the infamous Detective Anderson.

So he swallowed his response and elected to stay silent.

"You know what, never mind." Anderson exclaimed and changed the topic, keeping a firm grip on his clipboard. "Mr Hummel, please go through what you did the evening before your arrest."

"Fine," Kurt said, annoyed at Anderson's easy dismissal and rattled off the same story he'd told the arresting officer, telling the truth whilst omitting anything to do with Porcelain, knowing his friends would confirm his story later on.

Five minutes later, Detective Anderson was gone and Kurt was lead back to his cell, fully believing the next time he'd see Detective Anderson would be in another funny and unresolved sexual tension filled exchange after a heist of some kind, with Detective Anderson none the wiser that Porcelain was the very same guy he'd interviewed on a slow work day.

Of course, Kurt was mistaken but he wouldn't know that for another three days.

* * *

Detective Blaine Anderson looked at the report in shock. He'd remembered what that guy, Hummel, had rambled about the evidence from his latest case and had told one of the interns, a eighteen year old called Sam Evans who amused his co-workers with hilarious impressions, to check up on it and had gotten a positive report back.

He'd been stuck on that case for _days _not able to see what it was that was wrong with the whole picture. Then Hummel, as Blaine had taken to referring to him, had looked at it for less than _two minutes _and he had pretty much solved the whole case.

"Hey Blaine," Artie called as he wheeled past him. Artie Abrams was the departments' best computer techie and one of Blaine's friends in the station. "Sue wants to see you."

Blaine groaned and held up his hand in indication that he'd heard what Artie had said.

"Okay. Thanks Artie," Muttering to himself Blaine walked down the hall to Sue's office, clasping and unclasping his right fist in annoyance. Sue Sylvester was the head of Blaine's department and answered to the chief of the New York police department, Figgins.

Although it was kind of common knowledge in the station that Sue controlled everything. That woman had dirt on _everyone _and she must have something good on Figgins to have the kind of power she had over him.

There was an ongoing betting pool in the department where everyone put money on what they thought it was that Sue had to blackmail Figgins with.

Blaine personally had put ten dollars on it being some creepy porn video that Sue had stumbled upon accidentally.

Artie disagreed and thought it was something to do with Figgins' old figure skating days.

Blaine stopped outside Sue's door and knocked with a quick rap of the knuckles. "Knock knock," he announced his presence, a little nervously.

It was never a good thing to be called into Sue's office.

It was either to be yelled at in ridiculous and normally hilarious insults or to be assigned a job that normally conflicted with your morals. He wondered which it would be today.

"Ah yes, Anderson. Please come in and poison the unsullied oxygen in this room with the toxic fumes coming off of the aesthetically pleasing yet most likely fake mop on the top of your head that you call hair.

_Ah, _Blaine thought to himself. _So it's going to be one of _those _days. _Blaine ignored the insult and instead decided to get straight to the point.

"Miss Sylvester, is there a particular reason you wanted to see me?"

"Ah yes. Take a seat." Blaine moved into the room, cautiously, like one would when entering a lion's den.

He perched on the edge of the hard wood seat opposite Sue's comfy computer chair situated on the other side of the mahogany desk.

Blaine was pretty sure that Sue had her visitors sit on that hard chair just to amuse herself with thoughts of how uncomfortable they were.

"Detective, I just wanted to congratulate you on the Canadian Bill case. You handled that very well, very quickly and discreetly. That's how we like things to be done here."

After shaking off his astonishment that he was being _congratulated _by Sue Sylvester Blaine turned a little red and coughed, pulling at his collar a little awkwardly as he was compelled to tell the truth.

"Er... actually...It wasn't all me. I went to interview one of the mild public offenders earlier this morning and he... er... he... assisted me with pinpointing the origins of the evidence, which lead to the case being solved." Blaine coughed a little more and ducked his head awkwardly.

Sue looked surprised but quickly pulled herself back together.

"The offenders name short stuff?"

"Erm... I believe it was a mister Kurt Hummel. I was looking through his details yesterday." Blaine thought back on what he had read quickly. "Twenty two years old, un-employed. A trust fund baby, but he doesn't inherit the money until he's twenty three. He's being held in the local prison for a two week period after a moment of public indecency."

Sue nodded and then started writing in a pad, with her reading glasses on her nose.

"Alright then. That's all. You may leave Anderson."

Blaine looked at her in surprise. "Really? That's... that's it?"

"Yes, munchkin. You may now go back to your ordinary life obsessing over the infamous Porcelain and failing to catch him, then going back to your horrible one room apartment and eating powdered donuts that I know detectives live for."

Blaine spluttered.

"I'm- I'm not- obsessed-"

"Yeah you are. Why else have you insisted on being the main detective on his cases all these years? You can't hide anything from me Detective, remember that. That's all Anderson. Shoo."

Without another glance Sue ignored Blaine's presence until the only thing he could do was leave.

* * *

Sue Sylvester pulled off her glasses the instant the young detective had left, biting the end of one of the legs thoughtfully. Making her decision she started making all the necessary calls.

"Figgins. I have a request. A mister Kurt Hummel, being held in New York City's prison. I want you to bring him out and have him become an unofficial consultant for my department."

_"Sue, I cannot allow-"_

"Can it Figgins. Or need I call your wife about a certain.._Interlude _that occurred on the fifth of November ten years ago? You know the one I'm talking about. Where you practically _begged _me to-"

_"Alright alright! Just don't tell my wife!"  
_

"Lovely. Have him here for ten o'clock as soon as you can. He'll be paid of course and shall serve the rest of his sentence in our custody. When his two weeks trial period is up we'll see about him staying on full time-"

_"Sue what are you-"  
_

"Don't question it Figgins just make it happen."

With that Sue hung up the phone and smirked. She didn't know why but she had a feeling something interesting was going to happen very, _very, _soon.


	3. Chapter 03: Confidence Trick

******A Game of Cat and Mouse**

******(A/N: Edited and revamped on 18/05/13)**

___Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_"____Figgins. I have a request. A mister Kurt Hummel, being held in New York City's prison. I want you to bring him out and have him become an unofficial consultant for my department."_

"Sue, I cannot allow-"

_"____Can it Figgins. Or need I call your wife about a certain..Interlude that occurred on the fifth of November ten years ago? You know the one I'm talking about. Where you practically __begged ____me to-"_

"Alright alright! Just don't tell my wife!"

_"____Lovely. Have him here for ten o'clock as soon as you can. He'll be paid of course and shall serve the rest of his sentence in our custody. When his two weeks trial period is up we'll see about him staying on full time-"_

"Sue what are you-"

_"____Don't question it Figgins just make it happen."_

___With that Sue hung up the phone and smirked. She didn't know why but she had a feeling something interesting was going to happen very, _very___, soon._

******Chapter 3: Confidence Trick**

"Sorry, what?"

Kurt looked at the man sceptically. He was Asian and looked like he was in his early twenties.

_He can't be that much older than me, _Kurt mused.

The man had introduced himself to be Officer Mike Chang and first thing he'd said was; "I'm Mike and I'm your escort."

Naturally, Kurt's first thought was that he'd been sent a prostitute in prison. He wouldn't put it past Puck or Sebastian for that matter, it was something he could see one of them doing as a joke.

Mike Chang turned apologetic. "Sorry," he winced. "I could have phrased that better." He coughed and straightened. "What I meant is that I'm going to be taking you home, so that you can get changed, and then I'll be taking you to the station," he looked at Kurt, smiling like he'd cleared it all up.

Kurt raised an eye brow and said flatly, "I don't mean to bring you down but that really didn't make things any more clearer."

"Did- didn't anyone tell you?" Officer Mike Chang asked. One look at Kurt's face informed Mike that no, no one had told Kurt about Mike coming to get him. "You're going to spend the rest of your sentence in the NYPD's custody," Mike informed him, brightly. "You're the new consultant for the White Collar Crime unit, with Detective Anderson. Have you heard of him?"

Kurt snorted, "Yeah, I've heard of him."

Kurt thought, _I've come close to jumping him several times, let alone just 'heard of him',_

Kurt sighed through his nose in irritation. _And this morning started off so well, _he thought bitterly.

"Do I not get a say in this?" He asked Mike a tad desperately only to receive a cheery response in return.

"Nope," Mike beamed. "Have you got all of your things?" Thinking of something Mike continued before Kurt could respond. "Besides, wouldn't you rather be outside working with the police than in here? I mean, you could be raped at any moment."

Kurt chuckled darkly, clearly Mike thought he'd made a valid point.

"The NYPD and I don't exactly have the best relationship," he muttered before speaking louder. "Other than that, haven't you seen the guys here? Most of them are incredibly fit, I would mind being raped by them, believe me."

Mike's eyes widened at the new revelation. "Oh, so you're...?"

"Gayer than the fourth of July? Yeah. Didn't you pick up on it?"

One look at Mike's face and it was obvious he hadn't picked up on it whatsoever. "You have a terrible gaydar for a New Yorker," Kurt remarked. "I mean, look at me." Kurt gestured to himself.

With his meticulously styled hair and flawless complexion, achieved with many many skin products, it was really kind of obvious.

Not to mention Kurt's feminine voice. While it was nice that Mike didn't just assume like others it was still a little childish to still be so naïve when you're living in the big apple.

"I guess I do," he responded, looking a little shocked. "Sorry," Kurt laughed.

"Don't apologise, seriously. It's kind of refreshing," he admitted. "Most of the time people just assume. I mean, in Ohio I was harassed for being gay before I even came out. So someone not picking up on it within the first five seconds of speaking to me is a nice change."

Kurt rose from his seat.

He was in the same interrogation room as before with his visit from the infamous Detective Anderson.

He stretched, his toned arms and chest (obtained by doing so many aerobics in order to get in and out of museums and art gallery's) hidden in the orange jumpsuit that was about three times too big for him.

He cracked his neck and shook out his hands, the handcuffs jingling as he moved them about to stop them from rubbing.

"Well then. Shall we go?"

* * *

Blaine looked at Sue Sylvester in horror.

"What? No! I don't need a consultant. I'm perfectly capable-"

Sue cut his rambling off mid way as she walked around her desk and past the chair Blaine was currently spluttering in.

"Mr Hummel helped you solve a case you had been stuck on for four weeks, in two _minutes, _Anderson." She turned to him and spat, "And he did it by _glancing _at the evidence! This will be good for you," she said, turning her back on him as she looked at the picture of Michael Crawford that she had on her wall (for reasons Blaine really didn't want to think about.)

"It will give you a chance to socialise," she continued, "And who knows? With his help you'll probably be able to catch Porcelain in a few weeks! God knows we've been chasing after him long enough."

She turned to him once again and Blaine stilled in his seat, gripping the arm rests tightly.

"Now then pint size," her voice turned slightly threatening. "You don't have to like this arrangement and you don't have to agree with it. What you _do _have to do is put up with it. Now," she said, opening her door and standing to the side. "Get the hell out of my office. He should be here in a few minutes and you should be there to meet him. Besides, your deodorant is making my head swim."

Blaine drifted his way to his office, still in shock. He couldn't believe it. Why would Sue do this?

She normally _hated _anyone new! She nearly had Beiste, the head of the homicide department, quit when she first started out. So why the fuck would she go out and recruit someone new, _personally_?

Blaine shook his head and resolved to just grit his teeth and bear it.

_Besides, Hummel wasn't _that_ bad when I talked to him_. Blaine thought, _Sure he was kind of impertinent and I could have sworn he tried to flirt with me at one point, but either way he can't be that hard to get a long with. _Blaine's train of thought started to get whimsical. _Besides_ _this could the big break I've been looking for. With Hummel's help I might be able catch Porcelain! For that, _he thought firmly, _I'll put up with anyone._

God Blaine hated that guy.

Porcelain, not Hummel.

Whenever they talked, Porcelain tried to seduce him or tried to insult him or tried to annoy him into giving up. And when it wasn't during chasing him on a heist, he did it by sending messages to the NYPD.

It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't leave the messages in evidence and scattered about his crime scenes. Once he even wrote a message to Blaine by spray painting it on the floor of the art gallery he had robbed. The lettering had been backwards, so the only way he could read it was if he reflected it.

Blaine had spent _weeks _trying to unravel whatever code it was that the message was written in, thinking it was a secret message of some kind, to an ally.

In the end it had just been an (inappropriate) message to Blaine. It got him a ton of shtick from the guys at the station, and they'd laughed at him for weeks because of it.

Blaine was sure they still talked about it behind his back even then, two years later.

Getting back on track, Blaine shook his head and walked into his office. He sat behind his desk and immediately laid his head on his arms.

God, only ten in the morning and he already had the beginnings of a migraine pressing at his temples.

He heard someone knock on his door and said "Come in," wearily, without looking up.

"My goodness, Detective Anderson, you look exhausted! What on Earth is wrong?" Came a smooth voice from the doorway. Blaine froze in his seat. Was that-

No. No it was Hummel.

Maybe Sue was right, he ___must _be a obsessed with Porcelain if he was hearing his voice everywhere he went. Blaine glanced up at Hummel over his arms and Blaine admitted to himself that the consultant looked much better in his own clothes than a orange jumpsuit.

Hummel seemed amused at Blaine's response. Thankfully he didn't comment on it, instead he looked around at the office and plopped down in the chair on the other side of the desk to Blaine.

Blaine's office was much, much smaller than Sue's. It was a convenient size, being neither too big nor too small.

Blaine had a normal wooden desk, small, with a plant pot in the corner and an empty frame next to the desk lamp.

The chairs that Blaine and his visitors sat on were the same and were equally comfortable, unlike the chairs in Sue's office.

There was a filing cabinet behind Blaine in the corner opposite the door and there wasn't much else there.

Ther_e ____was _a long, leather sofa going up one of the walls but that was for when Blaine was pulling an all nighter and wanted to squeeze in a few hours of sleep.

* * *

Kurt looked around at everything in interest as Detective Anderson seemingly went to sleep on his desk.

It was a plain office and Kurt knew that before he left he was ___definitely _going to have to sort it out, add some things in there to make it a bit more colourful and more cosy.

Kurt lent forward slightly and poked the forearm that Anderson's head was resting on, causing Anderson to jolt up in surprise and pull back, his face losing it's shock and morphing into annoyance when he saw that, once again, it was just Kurt,

"Go away," Anderson groaned, uncharacteristically moody if what Kurt had heard about him was anything to go by and Kurt snorted, deciding to be juvenile and show his displeasure at the arrangement they were in.

"I'm not allowed," he snarked and jangled his wrist in front of the detective's face.

On it was the bracelet that kept him from leaving the state and which let the police see where he went and where he was whenever they wanted to.

It was going to be an inconvenience, especially where his work as Porcelain was concerned. At least he'd still be able to work street cons.

Anderson groaned again and nodded.

"Alright, come on then." He groused.

Anderson walked past where Kurt was sitting, out of his office and past all the cubicles of the other detective's in his department to the elevator. He passed a guy their own age who was in a wheel chair and the guy passed Anderson a little paper cup of water and two pills.

Anderson sighed in relief and called "Thanks Artie," behind him before taking the medicine.

Kurt heard a faint "No worries Blaine!", presumably said by the aforementioned Artie, before the elevator doors closed and Anderson pressed the button for floor 4.

"Where are we going?" Kurt chimed and the detective groaned and banged his head on the elevator walls.

"Hey, what's your problem?" Kurt questioned curiously and Anderson rolled his head to the side in order to look at Kurt from the corner of his eyes.

"I have a migraine and you speaking just makes it worse." Anderson groused.

Kurt snorted and Anderson shot him a weak glare.

"Shuddup. Not funny," he mumbled, his voice slightly muffled as his forehead was still lent against the lift.

"Where are we going?" Kurt repeated and Anderson seemed to give in, his body slumping.

"Forensics." Anderson muttered. "Need to get back to them about the evidence from the case I'm working, ___we're _working on," The detective back tracked, remembering the new arrangement sullenly.

They arrived at their floor with a ding and Anderson let Kurt get out first, like a gentlemen, before following.

Anderson lead the way to a pretty girl with ginger hair and big, brown doe like eyes. She looked like she was maybe ten years older than them.

"Mr Hummel, this is Emma Pillsbury, she does the forensics for my cases. Emma, this is Kurt Hummel-"

"The new consultant for the White Collar Crime Unit," Miss Pillsbury interrupted "Yes I've heard about him." They shook hands, Emma with white plastic gloves on.

"Call me Kurt," Kurt said and Emma smiled.

"Only if you call me Emma," she replied friendly and Anderson coughed.

"Okay then, if we can get back on task." He said pointedly.

Emma and Kurt smiled at each other and Emma nodded, trying to appear serious but her lips kept forming an amused smile no matter what she did.

"Yes, of course Blaine."

"So, what did you find Emma?"

"Well, no prints on the calling card, like normal. No prints on any of the artifacts The only thing that was disturbed was the tiger."

Like stepping into a warm bath, a warm flood of knowledge washed over him and made him smile, as Kurt realised that they were still trying to figure out how he (sorry,___ Porcelain_) had managed to do the Jade Tiger Heist.

___He's still on this? ____It's been nearly a week since I pulled that one off. _

Kurt mused and then started as Anderson looked back at him.

"So, Mr Hummel. Do you have the same insight in this area as you do money forgery?" Anderson looked almost like he was challenging him, as his mouth formed what could even pass as a flirty smirk.

Kurt smiled.

"I can give it a go," he shot back, with the barest hint of a smirk.

He gestured to Emma to hand over the file holding the evidence and flipped through the pages, keeping his face and eyes focused as if he actually was looking at the particulars of the case.

He was the one who committed the crime, its not like he needed to see any of it again, but all the same he had to keep up appearances.

"When and where did the crime happen?" He asked nonchalantly, hiding his grin at the flash of annoyance on Anderson's face when he directed the question to Emma instead of him, the lead detective on the case.

"It happened seven days ago at the Museum of Natural History."

Kurt hid a smile. Yes it did. He remembered.

He had gone to the museum during the day and had lain down in the Hall of Ocean life for the majority of his time there.

Thirty minutes before closing he had left through the main entrance and then came back in through the window he had had a friend who worked there leave open in the disabled bathroom.

He'd waited there until the museum had been closed for an hour and then changed into his 'work clothes'.

All the security camera's were on but he'd been casing he joint for a week before, like any good thief knew to do. He'd learnt the camera's blind spots and then _bam_**. **Easy peasy.

The Jade Tiger had been moved to New York for an auction. They'd kept it at the Museum of Natural History in order to divert thieves like Kurt. However Kurt had many contacts and had came by the knowledge of the tigers whereabouts rather easily to be honest.

"It was meant to be shown in an auction next week, the late Mr Motta actually arranged it, which is a bit of a coincidence. Don't you think so, Blaine?" Emma said, her eyes smiling.

At her words Anderson's face darkened.

Kurt held the folder up higher to hide his amusement.

_Yes, the detective _would _be rather sore about that, _Kurt mused. Anderson had originally thought Porcelain had killed Mr Motta.

___I still need to get Adam back for that, _Kurt thought fondly and he was sidetracked as he thought on ways how he could.

Anderson cleared his throat, bring Kurt back to the circumstance he should be focusing on at that particular moment in time.

* * *

"Well then, any thoughts?" Blaine directed this towards Hummel.

"Well, whilst it definitely was done by Porcelain," Blaine started a little at the unexpected mention of his adversary's name, "It's long gone by now."

"The Jade Tiger is very popular and would go for a lot on the black market," Hummel explained. "If___ I _was the one who had stolen the tiger," for some reason Hummel looked like he was sharing an inside joke with himself. "I'd get it out of the country as soon as possible, either through selling it or stashing it somewhere."

"So, you're saying that there's no way of tracking down the tiger ___or _Porcelain?" Emma asked.

"Nothings impossible but it's highly unlikely."

"Yes, this is one of Porcelain's bigger jobs. He most likely flew out of the country with the tiger and is laying low for a few weeks," Hummel smiled at this but Blaine didn't notice. "Thanks Emma, see you later. Say hi to Will for me,"

"I will. Bye Blaine. It was nice to meet you Kurt,"

"You too Emma. We must get lunch at some point. Maybe today if you don't have any plans...?"

"That would be lovely, here give me your number-"

What followed Five more minutes of last minute exchanging of pleasentaries and programming numbers into each others phones, all with Blaine looking on incredulously mind you. Finally Blaine and Hummel were going back to Blaine's office.

"Well that was a waste of time," Blaine complained once they had gotten there.

"Au contraire, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I met a lovely young lady and have a lunch date for later on today. I think we've accomplished a lot today."

"Nothing useful," Blaine said a little helplessly and then his eyes snapped to Hummel's face, who was once again lounging in the visitors chair in Blaine's office like he owned the place. "And don't get any ideas about Emma, she's happily engaged." Hummel choked back on a laugh.

"Oh don't worry. I assure you my intentions are nothing of the sort."

"Good," Blaine nodded, feeling like he'd made his point.

When Hummel laughed in response, Blaine felt like he was missing out on something very obvious.

"What?" Blaine asked.

"Nothing don't worry about it." Hummel replied through his laughter.

"No seriously Hummel. What?"

Hummel walked out of his office to who knows where and just left Blaine standing there in confusion as his chuckles reverberated down the corridor.

"I wonder what ___that _was about." Blaine voiced to the empty room.


	4. Chapter 04: Discretion

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

**(A/N: Edited and revamped on 18/05/13)**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse: _

"_What?" Blaine asked._

_"Nothing don't worry about it." Hummel replied through his laughter. _

_"No seriously Hummel. What?"_

_Hummel walked away and just left Blaine standing there in confusion as Hummel's chuckles reverberated down the corridor._

_"I wonder what that was all about." Blaine mused._

**Chapter 4: Discretion**

"Mr Hummel, why were you in the jewellery store by Central Park last night?"

It was another work day in the New York Police Department and Kurt had been at the station bright and early at nine o'clock in the morning, only to discover Anderson had been there since six.

The constant battle of who could one up who had begun.

Kurt looked at Detective Anderson and sent him a look of pure, innocent confusion, trying not to grin.

"Buying a watch Detective." Kurt's voice implied the 'what else' that he didn't add at the end of the sentence.

"I have the receipt if you want to look at it."

"I think that would be for the best," Anderson said and Kurt pulled out his black leather wallet, which he kept in the lining of his suit, to make it that much harder to steal.

He pulled out the receipt with two fingers instinctively, the grip used when picking a pocket, and handed it to Anderson with no amount of flourish. Anderson looked at it, no doubt checking it wasn't forged, and then handed it back to Kurt.

His reply was sheepish.

"Sorry Hummel. It's just I pulled up your tracker yesterday as a routine search and I was concerned when the robbery was announced."

Kurt's eyes dimmed a little at the mention of the tracker.

That thing was going to be a problem. He could call in favours but not indefinitely or he'd have no favours left. The tracker looked like a thick, ugly metal bangle and could be passed of as such easily but it was tight.

It sat on his wrist uncomfortably and it was tight enough that the only way he'd be able to slip it off would be by greasing his hand up with enough butter to fry a pig in and then slipping it over a dislocated thumb.

He'd do it if there was an important enough reason but Kurt hoped to avoid the pain and

inconvenience doing so would provide if he could.

"I Just went there to get a watch Detective Anderson. Sorry it's not more exciting." Kurt's eyes bore into the detective's and Anderson seemed to grow uncomfortable. Clearing his throat Anderson looked away and said,

"Alright that's all Mr Hummel. You can go for your lunch now."

Kurt smirked. He'd come out the victor of that fight. The main battle continued.

"Thanks Cupcake," and with that Kurt left, leaving Anderson staring.

Kurt could have sworn he heard Anderson splutter to himself and Kurt laughed as he made his way down to the stations cafeteria.

Of course, Kurt hadn't gone to the jewellery store to 'buy a watch'.

He had plenty of watches. _Designer watches._ He had stolen enough designer watches from business men and designers all over to world that he didn't need to buy a watch from a crummy _New York_ Jewellers.

No, he had gone there for a different reason. (Although he _did _get a watch and he planned on giving the watch to his brother Finn as a birthday present).

What he _had _been doing was casing the shop. Checking out what the security was like and he had needed an alibi for when Anderson inadvertently checked his tracking history (which is where the watch came in.)

He had observed the security camera's blind spots and had identified the pressure plates and heat sensors used to protect the pink diamond that was there on display from Paris.

Seeing as he couldn't steal the diamond himself – he _really _needed to get rid of that tracker!- he'd passed the information on to his friend Santana, a famous Jewellery thief known as Satan (after the calling card embroidered with red devil horns that she always left behind).

Santana had done the actual stealing, but had done it per Kurt's instructions so that according to Anderson, Porcelain had done it. And in return she would get a cut of the profit when Kurt got around to selling the diamond.

Not that sheneededthat for motivation. Santana had always wanted to steal the Rose Diamond.

Kurt remembered when he asked her...

* * *

_Two Days Ago:_

"_Porcelain,"__ Santana had sounded surprised that he had called her, they didn't talk often. _

_Their job's took them to different countries, if they talked more the phone bills would be abysmal.  
_

"_Hey Satan," The sheepishness in his voice told Santana something was off and she was instantly on her guard.  
_

"_I doubt this is just a social call Kurt, what do you want?"_

_"You see, Santana, that's what I like about you. You're always so-"_

"_Bitchy?"_

_"I was going to say 'straight forward' but I guess yours will do just as well."_

_The laugh on the other end of the line made Kurt grin. He turned over onto his stomach, where he was laying on his bed in his apartment, wearing his NYDA dance shirt and track pants. _

_He stretched out fully, like a cat searching for the warm spot on the bed._

_"I miss you Kurt, you don't call often." Santana admonished him._

_"Well, I know that you're a busy woman. You're an international jewellery thief now. Your time is precious."Kurt said charmingly._

_"Alright Hummel, enough sucking up." Kurt could hear the amusement in Santana's voice, "What do you want from me _this_ time?"_

_"I have a bit of a problem-"_

_"Don't tell me Anderson actually **caught **you? If you're using your phone call on me Kurt, I'm honoured and all but I'm not gonna bust you out" Kurt snorted. Santana was so loving._

"_He _wishes _he caught me," they laughed together. "No, nothing like that. Well, a little like that," Kurt admitted. "I _did _get arrested-"_

_"Kurt!-"_

_"But not for anything in our line of work!" Assured Kurt. "Don't worry Satan, I'm careful."_

_"Then what? Get to the point! Like you said, my time is precious,"_

_Kurt laughed, "God, Tana, you've not changed a bit have you?"_

_"Kurt..."_

_"Alright, alright! I _was_ in jail." Kurt paused and then carried on bravely. "For two weeks-"_

"_Kur-"_

"_Only two weeks Tana!"  
_

"_What am I gonna do with you Hummel?" __Kurt carried on like she hadn't said anything._

"_But then Detective Anderson visited me-"_

_"Wanky!"  
_

"_No, not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter Miss Lopez!"  
_

"_But it's so much more _fun_ there,"__ Santana purred and Kurt could practically _hear _her smirk.  
_

"Anyway,"_Kurt rolled his eyes and he knew Santana could tell what he was doing when she laughed on the other end of the phone. "Anderson visited me, I helped out with some evidence, and - long story short - now I'm a consultant for the NYPD."_

_"Kurt! How the fuck-"_

"_I know, I know, I'll try to be a bit more careful." Kurt rushed, "But that's not what I need you for." Santana perked up, this is why Kurt had called her. "They've got me on a tracker so I can't be Porcelain for a while. Can you help me with a diamond job?"  
_

"_Not the-"  
_

"_Pink diamond? Of course. You know I'd never call you for anything less. You in?"_

_"You bet your ass I'm in." __Kurt could hear Santana's excitement. "See you in a few days?"_

_"Sure, I'm doing recon tomorrow so get here to do the job tomorrow night."_

"_Okay. Are you still living with goody two shoes?"_

_"Who, Rachel? Yeah but-"_

_"Gah. Fine," Santana grumbled. "I can deal with her for the Rose."_

"_Thanks Satan. You get a cut of the final deal, okay? See you soon."_

_"Bye Porcelain."_

* * *

_Kurt and Santana Lopez had actually known each other in high school. They'd both been in the same school in Ohio, with Rachel and Kurt's brother Finn._

_Santana and Kurt hadn't gotten on that well during school, apart from a shared sympathy as they were both of them gay in a homophobic high school environment, but afterwards they'd bonded over their chosen professions and love of New York winters._

_Even when Santana worked all over the world, she always came back to New York for Christmas and that was when she and Kurt normally caught up with a drink and a heist._

_Kurt passed on the recon information and then two hours later news of the theft was spreading all over the city, and in another hour the world._

_Half an hour after Kurt had first seen the story on the news there'd been a knock on his and Rachel's door. Spinning from where he was dabbing at a forgery of a Dali piece he was working on for something he had planned for when this whole consultant fiasco was finished, Kurt placed his paint and brush down and then padded to the door._

_Opening it he wasn't surprised to see Santana leaning against the wall opposite._

_He opened the door further and let her brush past him, shutting the door and following her into the living room. She plopped down on to the sofa in all her glory, big chest and legs that went on for miles, both of which were enhanced and made to look bigger and longer by the black cat suit she wore when she worked._

_She had knee high leather boots on and a utility built with her tools and a pouch which no doubt held the diamond. Santana cracked her neck and pulled her long black hair out of the pony tail she had it in, shaking it out around her shoulders she propped her boots up on the coffee table._

_"You didn't have any trouble getting it did you?" He asked her and she snorted._

_"Please. The only thing I had 'trouble' with was copying your M.O. You're pretty high maintenance for an art thief Hummel."_

_Kurt snorted and said sarcastically, "Thanks Tana." He held out a hand and she tossed over the pouch._

_Taking a quick peak he felt immensely satisfied at the sight of the beautiful pink diamond nestled in the velvet cloth of the pouch. "Perfect. This is great, Santana, thank you. I owe you one," he told her._

_Santana snorted again. "Don't be an idiot anything I owe you for putting me onto it."_

_Kurt laughed and strode into the kitchen gracefully, placing the pouch into a secret compartment by his wine rack, then returned back to where Santana was sprawled out onto the couch with a bottle from his collection and two wine glasses._

_He set the glasses on the coffee table, poured them both out a drink and handed Santana hers, settling down next to her on the sofa. "To the rose," he proposed and she snickered._

_After composing herself she put on the snobby voice that was universally used by gallery owners._

_"To the rose," breaking character she added, "finally,"._

_They clinked glasses and it was after the first sip that a key could be heard jangling in the lock of the door and Rachel's voice drifted through to them a few seconds later._

_Santana's face fell and she tossed back the remaining wine in her glass with barely a grimace._

_"Another," she ordered Kurt. "I'm going to need it." Rachel came into the living room, still talking and then stopped when she saw Santana._

_"Santana." Rachel stated, taken aback at Santana's presence. "What a lovely... Surprise." She turned to Kurt. "Why didn't you tell me Santana was coming to visit?"_

_Kurt snickered and gulped back his glass of wine as well, refilling both his and Santana's drinks._

_"I'll have another too," He told Santana, ignoring Rachel for a moment, and if the annoyed bleats coming from Ms Berry a second later was any indication she resented it._

* * *

_Back to the present:_

Kurt arrived at the cafeteria and picked up the soup of the day (hazelnut and orange, which sounded... interesting at the least.) and a bread roll, then ordered a cappuccino.

When asked for payment by the Asian girl working the till, (who looked extremely bored - her name tag told him her name was Tina) he just flashed her his consultant badge and smiled at her, whisking away his food and taking his drink with him.

He turned around to face the cafeteria and faced the same predicament that he was so used to back in high school.

Tables were sorted via cliché and he didn't know which ones would accept the gay, theatre geek (only now he was a consultant for the White Collar Crime Unit and, on top of that, a criminal).

Luckily he was saved when he heard Emma Pillsbury call his name.

Kurt and Emma had met the day before, when Detective Anderson had introduced them. She worked in forensics and they had needed her expertise in a case.

He hurried over to her table, where she was sitting with a guy who looked to be about the same age as her. He had curly hair and brown eyes and from the way he and Emma were looking at each other he guessed this was the fiancée Detective Anderson had mentioned the day before.

"Hi Emma," he greeted and turned to the guy. "You must be Will, I'm Kurt Hummel," Will grinned, and offered him his hand to shake. "Emma told me all about you yesterday at lunch," Kurt continued and Will started to look a bit territorial. Kurt laughed, holding up his hands once he'd detached his other from Will's.

"Don't worry, I'm not after your girl. I'm actually gay," Kurt smiled wryly, remembering Mike Chang from the day before, "believe it or not." Will seemed to sag in relief and grinned.

"Sorry. Just, you know, Emma's a great girl. I'm the luckiest man alive and I don't want anyone stealing her away from me," Will joked and Kurt laughed.

"She sure is. If I didn't have a thing for brunettes, I'd be in danger of converting," He winked at Emma and he and Will laughed when she blushed.

"So, Will, what do you do here?"

"I'm actually NYPD's correspondence with the Newspapers." At the look of interested confusion on Kurt's face he grinned and elaborated. "So, when an officer or detective is interviewed for a newspaper I'm the one who arranges it. I also organise press conferences for the station." He added.

"Wow, that sounds interesting. Did you always want to do that when you grew up?" Kurt asked, intrigued, and Will laughed.

"No, I actually wanted to be a Spanish teacher. I tried it for a couple of years and then decided it wasn't for me. I consider that to be the dark period of my life." at Kurt's questioning look Will sighed and elaborated.

"I used to be married and my wife was extremely controlling and very selfish in the relationship. We couldn't have children and eventually she resorted to lying to me that she was pregnant because she thought I was going to leave her." Will shook his head and smiled in frustration at the old memory. "Of course, when I found out we got a divorce. After that I came to New York and I can honestly say I have never looked back. I love what I'm doing right now and I'm so thankful I got out of there when I could."

Will lifted Emma's hand and kissed it, keeping it and making it harder for both of them to eat, which elicited giggles from the both of them. Kurt smiled at the cute couple in front of him.

"Wow," Will looked up and laughed a little at the shock on Kurt's face, "Do you always tell this story to people you've only just met or am I special?"

Will shook his head. "No, I tend to just tell people it immediately if they ask and get it out of the way. It's just easier, you know? Other wise it'll just turn into a bigger deal when I tell them later on."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yes, Emma. It nearly drove us apart. But, luckily, she accepted it and we moved past it."

Will and Emma kissed each other lightly on the lips and went back to eating, with their intertwined hands resting on the table between them.

"Isn't it disgusting?" Came a voice from behind him. Kurt turned and saw a tall, thin, blonde woman. She looked to be in her early fifties, maybe five years older than Will, and she was wearing what looked like a suit in the style of a track suit.

Will looked up and sighed. "Hello Sue," the look on his face seemed resigned and Kurt saw he was braced for conflict.

"I'm sorry Will, I'm having a difficult time hearing anything you have to say because, your hair looks like a briar patch. I'm expecting animated Disney characters to pop up and start singing songs about 'livin on the bayou'." Sue then turned to Emma, dipping in a slight bow as she inclined her head in greeting. "Elmo, you look particularly ginger today. Make sure you stay out of the sun." Then Sue looked at Kurt and surveyed him from head to toe.

"Huh. I don't recall giving you an insulting nickname." Sue leaned back, assessing him and trying to think who he could be. In the end she gave up and just asked. "Who are ya kid?"

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt said and recognition flickered in her eyes. "I'm the consultant for the White Collar Crime Unit-"

"Yes, I know. I'm the one who arranged for you to come here. Young Burt Reynolds didn't like that very much." Sue seemed to smirk at the knowledge that she annoyed someone.

_"_Young Burt Reynolds?"

"Anderson. Also known as Other Gay," Kurt's eyes widened in understanding.

"_Oh_. Huh, yeah I see that. He _is _a bit like a young Burt- Wait," Kurt stopped, taken aback. "Anderson's gay?"

"We don't like inter department relationships here at the NYPD." Sue said, confusing Kurt even more. "So keep it in your pants Hummel."

"Wha-" She continued speaking without letting Kurt finish, staring off into the distance with her hands clasped behind her back.

"I will give you a choice out of these five nicknames." She announced, like she'd been giving something a lot of thought and couldn't make a decision herself.

"Eddie Muster," Will and Emma exchanged incredulous expressions.

"Tickle-Me-Dough-Face," Kurt pulled face, considering.

"Don Knotts," Kurt snorted.

"Porcelain" Kurt started at the unexpected mention of his nickname.

"Or Future Centre Square. However you can't have Porcelain as that is already somebody's nickname." Kurt rolled his eyes. Yeah, his.

"So, you have a choice out of the other four nicknames."

Kurt deliberated. "Er, Tickle-Me-Dough-Face I guess..."

"Damn. I wanted Future Centre Square." Sue turned to Will and Emma respectively. "Butt chin. Irish." And with that Sue was gone.

Kurt turned back to Will and Emma. "Is she... always like that?" Will nodded.

"Yes,"

"Normally she's much worse, I guess she's in a good mood today," Emma added, and popped a carrot stick in her mouth, chewing delicately.

"Did she call you-"

"Irish?" Emma held a hand up other her mouth as she spoke.

"Butt chin?" Will just looked neutral.

"Oh, I thought I might have imagined it. She seemed... nice." Emma and Will exchanged a look that made Kurt smile. "Oh hush. I don't like to think badly of anyone, so sue me."

Then Kurt remembered something Sue had said. "Hey, Anderson's gay?"

"Yes," Emma said, "Believe it or not the police is actually far more lenient about that nowadays."  
Emma's eyes sparkled. "Why, are you interested?" In went another carrot stick.

Before Kurt could reply he heard a voice behind him. "Interested in what?"

Kurt turned around and saw it was Detective Anderson. "Nothing," Kurt said, although his voice was a mite higher than he intended.

Anderson looked at him with a strange glint in his eye that said he didn't believe Kurt in the slightest.

"Uh huh. Sure," he sat next to Will, as he teased Kurt.

"Hey Will," he greeted with familiarity.

"Blaine, hi. How's work? Got any leads on Porcelain?" Anderson sighed.

"No. Apart from the jewellery heist last night, nothing new. And we didn't get any prints then either ,everything was pretty much the same." Suddenly Anderson hit the table with a clenched fist, making Emma jump and Kurt raise an eyebrow. " Damn it. I'm never going to get him!" Emma laid a hand on Anderson's shoulder, although it gave him no comfort.

"If anyone is going to get him Blaine, its you." She soothed.

"Yeah, you've come close a ton of times! Closer than anyone in your department ever has!" Will chimed in needlessly, which made Kurt raise his eyebrow again.

No, he hadn't. It may seem like it to Anderson but Kurt had always been in control.

The detective had never came close. This was really the closest he's came to catching him and that was only because he'd been in the same room as him for the last two days.

Suddenly in a bad mood and not wanting to be in the company of other people Kurt stood up, having finished his food.

"I'm going to spend the rest of my lunch break outside," he started walking away and heard Anderson say from behind him.

"What? But-"

"If you want to find me, just check my tracker. It's not like I can _go _anywhere." The resentment in Kurt's voice was obvious.

* * *

Blaine watched Hummel leave, perplexed. That was odd. What had he said that had gotten Hummel so wound up?

He turned to Emma and Will, who looked as confused as he felt.

"Do you two have any idea what's gotten into him? Was it something I said?"

Emma looked thoughtful. "I don't know. He was fine before you started talking to Will."

Her eyes brightened and Blaine leaned forward, eager to find out if she'd thought of anything.

"Maybe he was jealous?" Will looked like he was about to agree but Blaine didn't notice and snorted loudly in disbelief.

"Of who? Will? Me? And why would he be jealous anyway?" Will opened his mouth.

"Well Kurt _is_ g-" Will cut off with a yelp of pain and Emma suddenly looked too innocent as Will rubbed his leg under the table. "I mean, I don't know," Will covered lamely. Blaine, however, wasn't really paying attention.

"Oh well," he said, "I guess we'll just never know." He turned to Emma. "How's the wedding planning going?"

And that was that, the rest of lunch was spent talking about flower arrangements and seating charts and it wasn't until it was a half hour into work after lunch when Anderson turned around to ask for Hummel's opinion on something and he realised that Hummel wasn't there.

Blaine was about to pull up Hummel's tracking information when Artie knocked on the door of his office.

"Hey Artie," he greeted.

"Blaine, something just came in for you on the stations email address."

Artie wheeled over and handed Blaine a file.

"Who's it from?" He asked, rubbing his eyes, tiredly.

"A Jesse St James. He claims he's worked with Porcelain." Blaine's head snapped up immediately.

"What?" His shock was evident.

"Thought that might interest you," Artie chuckled and Blaine struggled to comprehend what he was being told. Blaine read the email.

_From: JesseStJames ( )  
_

_To: WhiteCollar ( )  
_

_R.E: FOR THE ATTENTION OF DETECTIVE BLAINE ANDERSON._

_Dear Mr Anderson, _

_My name is Jesse St James and I have information regarding the con man nicknamed Porcelain._

_I have worked with him in the past and whilst I don't know if the name I know him by is an alias or not, I do however believe that I have some prints that may belong to him. _

_Call the phone number at the bottom of this email to contact me and learn more._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Jesse St James_

_email: JesseStJames _

_personal phone number: 293-658-6342_

There was no work email or home address attached, and Blaine found himself staring at the email for another forty minutes, Artie having left once he realised he wasn't going to get a reaction from Blaine any time soon.

_This is it, _Blaine thought to himself, in shock and disbelief. _I'm going to get him. I'm finally going to get Porcelain._


	5. Chapter 05: Evidence

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

**(A/N: I'm still not really completely happy with this chapter, I think I probably could have ordered the events better. Thank you for all the views and follows and reviews you guys are awesome :) Please review and tell me what you think, whether the plot is moving too fast.)**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_This is it, _Blaine thought to himself, in shock and disbelief. _I'm going to get him. I'm finally going to get Porcelain._

**Chapter Five: Evidence**

Kurt groaned in annoyance and reached across his body with his left arm, scooping up his cell in one hand expertly and flipping it open with an easy flick of his finger. He looked across at his alarm clock, it was seven in the morning.

"What?" Kurt demanded, pinching his brow with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

"Kurt, I'll overlook you skipping work yesterday if you _come in to the station right now._"

Anderson's voice was high pitched and excited and Kurt was instantly suspicious, especially considering the Detective had used his first name. Kurt tried to ignore the way his first name sounded coming off of the detective's tongue and instead proceeded cautiously.

"Anderson," Kurt's voice was weary as he sat up and leant against his headboard. "What have you found?"

"I've got a lead!" Kurt's heart nearly stopped, there was only one thing that could get Blaine this excited and he did his best to remain sounding simply curious.

"On what?"

"Porcelain!"

Kurt's heart actually _did_ stop at that and his lungs struggled to get enough oxygen to his brain in order to think of an acceptable response. Anderson continued rambling, thankfully ignorant to Kurt's impeding heart attack on the other end of the line.

"I've found a contact of his who may know his identity _and _have prints of his! Kurt, this could be the break through I've been looking for!"

Kurt spluttered a little and if Anderson wasn't so excited he probably would have picked up on it.  
"Wow... Detective. This is... big. Congratulations." Kurt's attempt at sounding happy for Blaine's break through wasn't successful and the detective grew concerned.

"Hummel, are you okay?"

"Yes Detective. I'm fine. Just a bit of a cold. I'll be at the station in an hour or so, you woke me up." Kurt rubbed his eyes. He really didn't need this right now. "What's the name of the lead?" Even from just the way Kurt was speaking you could tell something was wrong and Anderson would have noticed had he been paying attention to anything other than the fact he'd gotten a great lead on the identity of Porcelain.

Kurt heard the sound of rustling documents on Blaine's side of the phone as he searched for the lead's name.

"A Mr Jesse St James." Blaine read. "He contacted me yesterday, willing to give up information. We did a back ground check and he's the leader of an underground crew in New York, Vocal Adrenaline. It was named after his glee club from when he was in high school. He must have been feeling sentimental."

Kurt's eyes narrowed. Jesse St James was an old flame of Rachel's. Kurt had introduced them when he was running in St James' crew, and had then promptly cut all ties to him when St James broke Rachel's heart, leaving him hanging in the middle of a big score. Jesse had a reason to be looking for revenge.

"Yes, I've heard of him," Kurt did his best to not let the anger he felt show in his voice. "See you in an hour Anderson." Kurt them promptly hung up and turned off his cell. He had work to do.

_Seventeen minutes later:_

_He's always late, _Kurt rubbed his face with palm of his hand and let out an aggravated sigh. _For once couldn't he just be on time? _Five minutes later the bell on the door to the café rung and Kurt looked up from where he was staring into the dregs of his coffee.

He'd found the small little coffee shop his first month of moving to New York and against his better judgement he'd kept coming back. He'd never brought anyone who worked with him there before and he knew he would miss the coffee. Not to mention the feisty black guy behind the counter, who's New York sass dealt well with any ass hole business men breezing through. He did it quickly and, the reason why Kurt found him so great, normally in a hilarious fashion.

An incident the week before stuck out for Kurt in particular;

"_Do I look like I care whether or not it was an accident? Just make me another drink, dammit! I could have you fired and the manager would probably thank me for ridding them of your incompetence!" _

_Kurt craned his head around the other people in the queue. A thin tall man in a suit was harassing the young girl who was making the coffee. Apparently she had gotten his order wrong.  
_

"_S-sorry sir. It'll be on the hous-" She stuttered, hiding behind her long, glossy, brown hair._

_"No." Sassy interrupted. _

_Sassy was standing there in all his amazing glory, glaring at the man who had stopped paying attention to the girl the second he reordered his drink. The girl turned to see who had spoken and she seemed to melt with relief. _

"_Marley, go work the till." He instructed. "'ll deal with Mr salt and pepper here."_

_The black guy was short and rather round and when he had first started out his name badge had proclaimed him to be Wayne. Now it was pink, adorned with pink rhinestones and claimed that Wayne's name was Unique. And at that moment he was assessing the lawyer with an expression that showed just how unimpressed Unique was with him. _

_Marley hugged Unique quickly, (or was he Wayne? Kurt didn't really know) in relief and then swapped places with him. The line started moving again but the people in the queue carried on watching, Kurt included. _

"_People like you d-i-s-g-u-s-t DISGUST me." Mr Salt and Pepper, as he know was forever to be known, looked slightly taken aback and he stopped texting in order to stare at Unique._

"I'm sorry?" Mr Salt and Pepper asked impatiently yet in slight confusion.

"_You _better_ be sorry!" Unique retorted. "My girl Marley is the sweetest person in this joint and you had her close to tears. You should be thankful that I'm not beating your ass right now."_

_Mr Salt and Pepper opened his mouth to make a retort but Unique carried on before he could, his right hand pointing in the air in a sassy fashion as he spoke._

"_You just get yourself out of this shop and don't even think of coming back unless you intend on apologising to Marley." Unique's accent thickened as he spoke and he sounded incredible. _

He probably has an amazing voice, _Kurt thought, watching in the sidelines._

"_Good luck finding another coffee shop off of Central Park that serves Roasted Pumpkin Mocha's." Kurt felt a bit sympathetic for Mr Salt and Pepper at that. The Roasted Pumpkin Mocha's were delicious. "Good day!" _

_Each sentence had an audible fall stop with the amount of sass Unique was delivering them and Mr Salt and Pepper left without resistance and without a coffee. He had come back the next day, shamefaced. After mumbling an apology to a speechless Marley, he had pressed a quick kiss on her cheek per Unique's 'coaching' and then had gotten his coffee as quickly as he could before leaving._

The bell Kurt had heard announced the arrival of a tall man in his mid twenties, with a shaved head and he made his way over to Kurt's table. The guy was well built, a piercing glinting in his left ear and he had broad, muscled shoulders and strong arms.

"Hummel," Noah Puckerman greeted in an even voice.

"Hey Puck! Thanks for coming to see me."

"Anything for you dude. How's Rachel?"

Kurt chuckled as Puck attempted to sound casual. Puck was another of Rachel's old flames, though a nicer one than Jesse and he and Kurt had kept in contact when Rachel and Puck broke up. Like many Broadway stars Rachel believed in having many relationships, something about how it added depth to her performance. She'd often refer to her flings as meteors. They burnt brightly and gloriously but once they'd crossed the sky they would burn out. Puck was one of many meteors in Rachel's life.

Puck sank down in the seat opposite Kurt, the coffee Kurt had taken the liberty of ordering for him still warm in its cup against all odds. As Puck took a sip Kurt answered. "She's good,"

"Single?"

"She's Rachel," Kurt said with an impatient grin. He didn't really have time for small talk today. "She's always single." He continued.

"Never for long though,"

"You know how she is,"

Puck put his drink down from where he'd been nursing it, his drinking habits showing. Puck liked a good time.

"So, who's the target?" Puck leaned forward.

Kurt pushed forward the folder he'd prepared and Puck snorted at the name on the front.

"St James? He's like a freaking cockroach," Puck noted. "He keeps coming back. Rachel was real torn up the last time she saw him," Puck recalled as he flipped the first page over and read through the details. Kurt and Puck had met when Kurt had dabbled in assassination. Kurt had been a stealth assassin, whilst Puck had been an excellent hitman..

"Yeah, the gift that keeps on giving." Kurt said sarcastically, leaning back and crossing his ankle over his thigh. "Recently more so," Kurt remarked.

"You want me to gank the bastard?" Kurt rolled his eyes at Puck's lack of eloquence and enthusiasm.

"No," Puck's enthusiasm dimmed.

"Want me to threaten him?" Puck's bored tone showed Kurt what he thought for that idea.

"Just be sure to get the message across. I don't need him complicating things for me right now."

Puck groaned. "That's boring, c'mon let me kill him." One look at Kurt's face and Puck sighed.  
"Fine." He said reluctantly. "Want me to get leverage on him while I'm at it?"

"Yes please," Kurt exhaled.

"Okay. D'you have a deadline or can I take my time?"

Kurt rubbed his face, something he seemed to be doing a lot recently. Maybe he was starting to get a migraine."That's the thing, I need it done in," Kurt consulted his watch. "Thirty six minutes. Think you can do it?"

Puck let out a low whistle. "Damn. Okay, I'll see what I can do."

The two men shared a 'bro fist' and then parted ways.

* * *

Thirty six minutes had gone by and Kurt stood in front of the New York Police Station. He saw Blaine, who was staring at his watch and starting to look impatient (despite his obvious excitement at the prospect of catching Porcelain) and met him with a forced smile.

"Detective," Kurt greeted and Blaine looked up.

"Hummel!" He exclaimed.

_So, I guess we're not on first name basis any more, _Kurt frowned slightly, only then realising he'd been thinking of the detective with his first name ever since he'd called him that morning. _That's over then, _he replaced his mask of indifference quickly.

"What did your lead tell you?"

"St James told me that he once worked with Porcelain on a job, and has prints of his,"

"Saving them for a rainy day?" Kurt joked, masking his panic, his mind going back to the incomplete Dali forgery he was working on involuntarily. Rainy day job indeed.

"Huh? Yeah, maybe." Anderson shook is head in a rare show of his easy going side, eyes crinkling as he grinned. This chance at Porcelain brought down the detective's walls and Kurt filed this information away for later on. Despite his current anxiety, it may be useful in the future.

"Anyway," Anderson got back on track, "St James is going to meet us at Central Park in," he consulted his watch, "Thirty minutes. Ready to go?"

Kurt took in a deep breath. "Not quite," he gestured to the main entrance of the station. "I need to go to the rest room. You mind? I'll be quick," Anderson groaned, but light heartedly, and it just went to show how giddy he was that he didn't question it, especially considering how shifty Kurt was acting.

"Nah, go ahead. Just hurry. We can't be late,"

Detective Anderson had done well for himself, considering he was a 23 year old gay American Italian male, in the police. He'd worked long and hard for it though, no mistake. Blaine Devon Anderson was 5'8 and the other people in his department towered over him (Kurt a few inches taller than him, actually.) He had an Italian complexion, hazel eyes and brown curly hair that he normally had gelled down. He normally wore a fitted suit, for better movement, with deep pockets, suspenders and a bow tie. Anderson had a kind of subtle handsomeness, his eyes sparkling when he grinned and the freckles on his full cheeks blending in well with his skin tone. At that moment, waiting for Kurt anxiously in anticipation of finally catching his well known adversary, Detective Anderson resembled a puppy waiting for his owner to fetch the leash.

Kurt sat down in one of the two stalls in the men toilets and fished his cell out of his pocket. He scrolled down a list of contacts and his finger hovered over the call button when he got to the one he wanted. Without a moment of hesitation Kurt pressed down.

_**This is Puckzilla. If you've called for business then call me at a fucking reasonable hour, god. **_Puck's voice then smoothed to a seductive lilt._** However if you're calling for pleasure- **_

Kurt gritted his teeth, handing up before Puck's voice mail could continue. _Dammit, Puck! Where are you? _He stared at his phone and then rapped his forehead with it in frustration. Standing up, Kurt flushed the toilet and then washed his hands, taking the reasonable amount of time expected before he went back out to front.

Anderson sprung up from where he was sitting on the low wall in front of the station.

"Thought you'd fallen in," Anderson joked, somewhat nervous now, and Kurt forced a laugh.

"Shall we go?" the detective continued when Kurt didn't respond, clenching his hands into fists and swinging them at his side.

"Sure," Kurt said and as he got into the cab the Detective flagged down, for the first time since starting this game of cat and mouse, he was nervous. He couldn't get a response from Puck and if Puck hadn't been able to sort this out for him- Well, for lack of a more eloquent term, he'd be screwed. Jesse would recognise him instantly at the meeting and wouldn't hesitate to introduce him to Blaine, as Porcelain.

_Time for a little faith I guess. _Kurt stared out of the window at the passing New York traffic and he felt Anderson's gaze on him. Make or break time.

Jesse St James' eyes widened when Anderson introduced Kurt to him. "Mr St James, this is Kurt Hummel. He's a consultant at the White Collar Crime Unit." When Jesse didn't answer Anderson elaborated. "He was in for public indecency and then turned out to have talent for it."

St James forced a smile, "Mr Hummel," he extended his hand out for a shake and Kurt took it hesitantly.

"Mr St James." Kurt replied breathlessly as he looked around subtly. They were standing on the middle of the bridge and were in the open. Kurt tried not to think about how they were easy pickings for any half decent sniper and instead focused on taking in his surroundings. He nearly sagged with relief when he spotted Puck sitting inconspicuously a while away on a bench, staring at them over a newspaper. When their eyes met Puck winked and Kurt felt the weight of worry lift off of his shoulders

"So," Anderson's voice brought him back to the matter at hand. "You said over the phone that you had something for me?" Kurt received a text and opened it while St James replied, ignoring the look Anderson sent him.

Jesse answered. "Yes, I believe I have prints of Porcelain's."

_Prints he's giving the cop are a dud. They'll lead the suits to a dead Swedish tourist St James' crew 'picked up' a few days ago. My idea. It'll keep your boy toy busy for a while – Puck_

Kurt hid his grin and replied quickly, his fingers flying as Anderson and St James carried on talking.

"I can't thank you enough. And you're sure you don't want anything in return?"

_Genius Puck. Thanks, I owe you. Why weren't you picking up earlier? - Kurt_

As an after thought he also sent:

_And he's not my boy toy – Kurt_

Kurt looked up in time to see Jesse force a humble smile. "No, just knowing that I'll be aiding the police catch a criminal is reward enough." Kurt snickered when he saw how Jesse was gritting his teeth and turned it into a cough when Anderson shot a questioning look at him, Jesse glaring at Kurt the moment Anderson turned away.

"Well, you're doing New York a great service. Thank you." Anderson shifted the envelope that the prints were in to his other hand and looked over to Kurt.

"Ready to go, Hummel?"

"Sure. Nice to meet you Mr St James" Kurt nearly laughed again when Jesse faked another pleasant look when Anderson looked at him for his response.

"And you." Jesse forced out.

Anderson and Kurt turned and started walking away without any further small talk, Kurt high fiving Puck when Anderson looked the other way. A sharp whistle from Kurt that drew a look of surprise from Anderson and nearly caused a crash, but they were then in another cab so it didn't matter. Anderson turned to Kurt after telling the driver to take them to the station, with the biggest grin on his face.

"Excited are you?" Kurt asked, hiding his grin when the detective tried to school his features.

"No." Anderson said a little too quickly and he amended his sentence when Kurt snorted and sent him a sceptical look. "A little. With good reason!" Anderson defended himself. "It's exciting! I've not gotten a decent lead on Porcelain in years!"

Kurt turned to hide his grin by pretending to look out of the window at the passing scenery. _Well those prints won't help with that at all. _He coughed to hide his snicker and then looked at Anderson again.

"So, what's the plan?"

Anderson grinned again. "I'll give the prints to Emma and then she and her forensics buddies will do their thing. We'll get the results back in a few days."

"Great," Kurt said. "And what will we do while that's happening?"

"Be on the look out. Porcelain's been too quiet recently. I think he's up to something." The irony of that sentence did not escape Kurt and he couldn't hold back his amusement at the entire wacky morning. Anderson looked on as Kurt had a laughing fit and tried to be patient. When Kurt seemed to be finished Anderson opened his mouth to ask but Kurt was just stopping for breath.

"What?" Anderson whined and Kurt's laughter increased. "_What?_ What's so funny? Tell me." Kurt shook his head, shaking in silent laughter, and Anderson grumbled.

"I bet its not even that funny." He groused and Kurt's laughter started up anew.

_If only you knew Anderson, _Kurt crowed in his mind. _If only you knew._

* * *

Kurt and Puck went out for drinks that night to celebrate and Kurt couldn't remember exactly what happened because sometime between his thirteenth beer and third shot of whiskey Kurt lost all recollection of the night. He couldn't be sure of course, but he was fairly certain that at one point Puck dragged him to a strip club and then somehow, his memory wore thin here, Kurt ended up being the one who dangled upside down on the pole in front of an entire room of drunken yobs. It wasn't the first time that happened and it definitely wouldn't be the last if Puck had anything to say about it but Kurt definitely regretted his brief stint on the pole when he woke up with a massive hangover in another person's apartment.

The sheets were silk - though that wasn't much of a surprise considering Kurt had most likely gone home with one of the rich men in the club who were bored with their marriage- and the curtains were non-existent, the room of a man who did not go out and get drunk very often. Kurt's head pounded as the light cut into his eyes and seeped through to his brain and Kurt groaned in pain, clutching at his head and allowing himself a moment to recover before he did the good old walk of shame. He took the time to try and recollect what the hell had actually happened the night before.

All Kurt could remember was sliding up and down the pole to the beat of the music, (he still wasn't sure how Puck had managed to convince the management to let him go up there nor did he have a clue how Puck managed to convince him to go along with it _again_) staring across the room as he locked eyes with a man bathed in shadows at the back of the room, over the heads of the hollering patrons.

The strangers eyes were smouldering with lust and they were probably normally a hazel colour but they had darkened. The stranger's hair swept down into his eyes in a bundle of curls and in Kurt's hazy, drunken mind he thought he might even recognise him. Kurt disregarded the notion the way you can only when you're completely trashed.

When the man had walked up to him twenty minutes later and asked whether he could buy him a drink Kurt wasn't surprised nor did he decline.

A few drinks later, (which didn't help with the memory problem) and they were tumbling into the back of a cab, drunken laughter and the whisper of lips, as clothes were pulled and tugged on. The handsome stranger managed to pull his lips away from Kurt's long enough to call out the address of his apartment and then they were back again. Stumbling out of the elevator, hands going everywhere as their lips clashed. Kurt couldn't recall how they got into the apartment but they did and all that he remembered next was in bright flashes; tongues fighting for dominance, sucking on skin and drunken laughter and moans. Then quick movements, pulling and pushing and _need _and then release and they both fell into sleep, slowly and then all at once.

Kurt didn't remember what it was about the guy that had made him want to sleep with him, he was positive that they_ had _talked past the initial buying of the drink and Kurt had probably really liked him. However, he couldn't remember much apart from the man's approach and the actual fucking.

Kurt didn't look across at the man in the bed beside him. Instead he got up, ignoring the familiar twinge of pain the movement provoked from the actions of the night before, as he hopped around the room and gathered his clothes, pulling them on haphazardly. A quick look in the bin by the door as he passed and relief flashed across his mind when he saw the used condom. He left the bedroom, thanking god for small mercies and wondering which of them had remembered protection.

He pulled on the rest of his clothes that were spread about the apartment, which he couldn't help but notice was that of a bachelor and, whilst nicely furnished, not so nicely that the guy who lived there could be mistaken for a business man or lawyer.

And then he left, the door slamming shut behind him as he went, his steps echoing down the empty corridor as he made his way to the elevator. He shivered, getting a sense of de ja vu. No doubt it was from the journey up to the stranger's apartment the night before.

* * *

Blaine heard his apartment door slam and shot up in bed, grabbing his head when the alcohol consumption from the night before caught up to him. He cursed himself for never getting around to buying curtains and then looked next to him, not surprised when he saw that the guy he'd picked up in that strip club the night before had left.

He could only remember flashes of the night before, although he remembered enough that he knew he had had a good time. A really _really _good time. He sighed and leant back, running his hand through his curls. He'd let them run free of the usual buckets of gel when his friends David and Wes dragged him to a strip club the night before to celebrate the lead on Porcelain. He tipped his head back to lean his neck on his head board, then paused when fabric tickled his nose and opened an eye to see what it was.

It took him a while to for his eye to focus but when it did Blaine's breath caught.

It was a tie. And not one of his. His were all bow ties and this was a thin, stylish dress tie. The kind that usually were worn clipped down to the shirt. The guy he'd brought home with him the night before – Blaine couldn't believe that he'd actually had a one night stand, he always thought himself above those kind of things - had probably forgotten it when he left. But the thing that made him draw a breath was the fact that he recognised the tie.

He could have sworn that Kurt – _Hummel - _had been wearing it the day before_. _Blaine opened his other eye and examined the tie more closely. It really did look remarkably like Kur-Hummel's tie. _Must be a coincidence, _Blaine dismissed. _Besides, K-Hummel isn't even gay._

* * *

Kurt let himself into his and Rachel's apartment and went to hop in the shower, only to hear it already on. He shrugged and instead went to get changed from the clothing he was wearing the day before, hearing the shower turn off as he walked past. "Hey Rachel," Kurt called.

"Hey Kurt!" Rachel replied. "You didn't come home last night,"

"I went out to the bar with Puck and was too drunk to come home. I slept on his couch," the lie came out easily and Kurt didn't know why he felt the need to lie about the night before. He shrugged and decided to stick with it, just like he would on a con.

"Oh okay," He heard her brushing her teeth and then made his way to the kitchen, knowing she'd be in there for a while.

"Rachel, I'm going to make an omelet. You want anything?"

"No, I'm good. Oh! Wait! There's something I need to talk to you about-"

Kurt turned into the kitchen and then stopped still when he saw who was standing in there, half naked and drinking coffee out of his mug.

Jesse St James smirked, leaning against the island in the kitchen, his hair messy from sleep and looking suspiciously like he'd just had sex.

"- Jesse and I got back together!"


	6. Chapter 06: Fugitive

**(A/N: Sorry for being late in updating :) I've decided that Sunday's are my updating days for this story.  
****There's not much Blaine Kurt interaction in this chapter. Sorry :( But a new character is introduced! And we _finally _get to know why on earth Rachel and Jesse got back together :O Thank you for the wonderful reaction to the last chapter, Evidence :D I was worried people would think that it's going too fast :) You'll find that this story will be very fast paced, I'm having things happen the way they do in a television program. One problem in each chapter and a main theme for the 'series' (or story in this case :D) Thanks again! Enjoy the chapter and please tell me what you think :D)**

**(Edit: I've gone back and fixed all the phone calls. The people who Kurt are talking to normally have underlined dialogue but 's being a bit of a bitch with that. It happened in chapter 4 too. Can anyone tell me how to stop that from happening? Thanks :D Hopefully I fixed it xD)**

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_Kurt turned into the kitchen and then stopped still when he saw who was standing in there, half naked and drinking coffee out of Kurt's mug._

_Jesse St James smirked, leaning against the island in the kitchen, his hair messy from sleep and looking suspiciously like he'd just had sex._

"_- Jesse and I got back together!"_

**Chapter Six: Fugitive**

"What?" Kurt looked in between Rachel and Jesse. "You got back together? Why? When?"

Rachel shrugged. "Well, Jesse was in the city," Jesse was always in the city. "And he wanted to catch up," the same day that he found out that Kurt was working as a consultant for the NYPD? Bullshit. "And one thing led to another and..." Rachel trailed off and walked over to Jesse, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Well, now we're back together. You should be happy, you've been saying that I should start going out again."

Kurt couldn't believe any one could be so damn _gullible. _There was no doubt in his mind that Jesse St James had an ulterior motive. He stared daggers at Rachel and she returned them, neither breaking their concentration. After a minute or so of this, with Jesse staring at the two of them like they were crazy, Kurt spoke up.

"Are you sure about this Rachel?" Rachel took a deep breath, from her belly, like her vocal coach taught her to do, and she nodded. "Positive."

Kurt nodded too.

"Okay."

He went over to the fridge and started getting the ingredients he need for his omelet. He looked over his shoulder and saw Rachel hovering in the doorway aimlessly, in nothing but her thin robe, disbelieving that she'd won quite so easily.

"Rachel, hun, whilst I'm all for Jesse hanging out in here half naked," Kurt lied smoothly, appraising Rachel in her robe. "You are a different story, it does nothing for me. Go get dressed and by the time you come out breakfast will be ready."

Rachel opened her mouth, "I said I didn't want-"

"That was before you sprung a new boyfriend on me." Kurt interrupted. "Now, you will eat my food and you will like it. Scat." Kurt pointed with a wooden spoon and Rachel sighed dramatically.

"Very well," she kissed Jesse once lightly on the lips and then returned to the bathroom. The instant she was out of ear shot Kurt spun to Jesse and glared, not surprised to see Jesse already looking at him impassively.

"Why are you here St James?" Kurt demanded. Jesse smirked in that smart ass way he had.

"The view," he snarked, inclining his head to the New York City skyline visible from the sweeping art studio windows that Kurt and Rachel had brought the apartment for in the first place.

"Bull shit!" Kurt exploded and then lowered his voice, glancing towards the doorway quickly to ensure Rachel hadn't heard. "That's bull shit! What do you want?" Jesse smirked.

"Seeing as we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other now," Jesse made the sentence a threat and not a fact. "You should call me Jesse. And as for what I want..." He seemed to be thinking. "I'll get back to you on that."

Kurt fumed but any attempt at continuing the conversation got him nowhere.

Twenty minutes of awkward and tension filled silence later Rachel was back, squeaky clean and dressed for the day. She sat down and ate her breakfast, Kurt having eaten his while she was gone, and then stood up to wash up her dishes.

"Jesse, what are you doing today?" She asked over her shoulder.

"This and that," he smirked. "What about you?" Rachel never turned down an opportunity to talk about herself and so started prattling on immediately.

"Oh, well there's a new musical coming out on Broadway and-"

Kurt blocked out Rachel's rambling and tried to think what he should do about the situation. He hadn't had a chance to tell Rachel about Jesse's stunt yesterday and he couldn't now. Jesse had Kurt's prints _and _easy access to Rachel, who Kurt refused to let get hurt, so there was nothing he could do about it.  
The first order of business, Kurt decided, was to talk to Puck and clue him in on the recent development (and try to talk him out of killing Jesse while he was at it). Then they needed to think of a way to retrieve Kurt's prints that Jesse had somehow gotten a hold of and _then _maybe they could start to think about cluing Rachel in on the Jesse situation.

"What about you Kurt?" Jesse asked when Rachel stopped to take a breath. "What are _you_ doing today?" Jesse lifted his eyebrow threateningly and Kurt knew it was more than just an innocent question between friends. St James was there to keep any eye on him and make him feel so on edge that he may slip up a little.

Furious once he had it figured out why Jesse had rekindled his 'love' for Rachel, Kurt exhaled through his nose noisily. Jesse would break Rachel's heart all over again. Kurt's eyes flashed.

"This and that," Kurt mocked him icily and he looked at his watch, trying his best to look casual; and pretending to be surprised at the time. "Wow, look at the time! If I want to have a shower today I need to get it done now." He quickly went to wash up his dishes, leaving the frying pan in the sink to soak; talking to Rachel over his shoulder as he did so. "I'm going to take a ten minute shower and wash the subway out of my hair. Did you use all the hot water Rachel?" Rachel shook her head, looking taken aback at his sudden burst into action.

"Great! I'll wash this pan up when I finish, okay? Good luck with your audition Rachel! Break a leg, I know you'll do great!" The last bit was genuine at least, Kurt knew Rachel would ace any audition she tried out for.

"Thanks Kurt!"

Kurt passed Rachel, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek as he did so, and then took his shower.

Thankfully Rachel and Jesse left at some point when he was in the shower. After finishing he ran through his moisturising routine as quickly as he could, he brushed his teeth and then washed, dried and put away the frying pan with his towel wrapped around his waist. Once he'd done that he could put on his clothes in clear conscience, as the would be no risk of washing up water getting his designer outfits wet. He left the apartment twenty minutes after Rachel and Jesse did and his phone was already at his ear when he held out a hand to get a cab.

"Don't you know what time it is?"

"Puck, it's half past twelve."

"Yeah, but that's like 5:30 in hang over time and in Puck time 5:30 hangover time is like 3am regular time."

Kurt shook his head and decided to just apologise, it was easier than trying to understand Puck's illogical logic.

"I'm sorry for waking you Puck. But we have a situation." Puck groaned and Kurt heard him sit up on the other end of the phone and let out a couple muffled curses. Kurt heard several thuds on Puck's end of the line.

"Puck, what are you doing?"

"Getting dressed," Puck grunted and Kurt started as something shattered in the background. "I'll meet you at that awesome coffee shop we met at yesterday. Get me that Pumpkin thing that you got me before."

"See you in twenty minutes then," Kurt said into the phone and after a grunt sounded from the other end, that Kurt guessed meant _Yes, _he hung up.

He looked over at the cab driver, who'd started to get impatient.

"The Lima Bean off of Central Park," he told the man behind the wheel and they were off.

* * *

_Forty three minutes later:_

"Why are you always late?" Kurt demanded when Puck finally showed up. Puck ignored him and took a swig of the Roasted Pumpkin Mocha that Kurt had ordered for him.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Puck complained, wincing as he swallowed the liquid down. "It's cold." Puck said before taking another sip.

"It would have been warm if you _were on time_," Kurt said pointedly and Puck just waved it away, taking another sip of his coffee and as he drunk he started to resemble a human being again. After an especially big gulp Puck finally was ready to talk.

"Alright," he announced. "What's so damn important?" Kurt had decided to just come out with it and not sugar coat anything.

"Jesse and Rachel are going out again," Puck choked and spluttered for a few minutes, spraying coffee everywhere. Once he had recovered he exploded.

"What the fuck!? She's going out with that dick again?" Kurt nodded.

"Yeah. But you know why, right? I highly doubt that Jesse just randomly decided to see Rachel again." Puck's face cleared.

"Because of yesterday." Puck said like it was obvious.

"Correct. So, you know what we have to do." Kurt's voice made it a statement and not a question and Puck looked confused and slightly irritated. Kurt knew Puck didn't like to be made to think when it was what he considered 'early in the morning.'

"No, Hummel. I don't. What the heck do we have to do to get rid of dickwad?"

"We need to get my prints and then use whatever you got on him to get him to stay _away _from Rachel. What _did_ you get on him anyway?"

Puck snickered. "He made a sex tape. With a dude," Kurt's expression cleared.

"And if it was exposed, Mr and Mrs St James would stop giving him his allowance and without the funds Vocal Adrenaline would disband. Great work Puck." Jesse's parents were extremely homophobic and if they found out about Jesse's... _flexibility _then their money would be unavailable to Jesse instantly.

"So, what? We get your prints, destroy 'em and then give the sex tape to the paps?"

"Sounds like a plan. Although we could always just keep it, you know, in case Jesse starts trying to cause us problems again." Puck grinned, seemingly fully recovered from his hangover, which Kurt found unfair as _he_ still had to wear sunglasses to stop himself from going blind with pain.

"Nice." Puck held out a hand for a 'bro fist' and Kurt rolled his eyes, but bumped his closed fist against Puck's despite himself.

Glad to have come up with some kind of plan Kurt and Puck started catching up, they hadn't seen each other since the night before, at the club.

"So," Puck smirked, looking like he was restraining himself from coercing Kurt into a high five. "You got some last night, huh?" Kurt rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, to say something along the lines of 'It's none of your damn business, Puckerman.' but not getting a chance before someone cut him off.

"Kurt?" Came a voice from behind him. Kurt turned and saw someone he hadn't thought he'd ever see again.

"David Karofsky?" He asked in shock.

"Man, I thought that was you! How are you, Kurt?" David and Kurt clasped hands. David Karofsky was an old friend of Kurt's from back in Ohio. Well... When you say friend...

* * *

_Five years ago: _

_Kurt Hummel was in trouble. He knew that. But, unfortunately, there wasn't anything he could do about it. Sure, he could stand up for himself. If he wanted to get himself killed! McKinley High School was not a good place to be gay. Every day, it was the same. It had started in his junior year and hadn't let up since then._

_The first day he had shown up at the school, in an outfit he'd taken _hours _putting together; in order to ensure he looked his best on his first day of school. Fresh faced and naïve he expected to make lots of friends. Instead, he got a slushie in the face. It stung, the syrup in his eyes and the fact that someone could even do that to him in good conscience. However, he picked himself up, sure it was just something that happened at the school when you were first starting out. Like a hazing. Surely everyone was getting it done to them? So he went to the boy toilets and washed the slushie out of his hair and out of his clothes as best he could before turning up to home-room ten minutes late. He got let off because it was his first day. _Tomorrow, _he thought to himself. _Tomorrow will be different.

_Well he wasn't wrong. Tomorrow _was_ different. Tomorrow was worse. Every day was worse than the day before. A slushie in the face in between classes, a few snide comments, his chair pulled out from under him, his locker tp'd, his clothes taken in gym. He wasn't an idiot, he knew what it meant when they called him a fag. He didn't realise at first that the fact that he _was _gay was why they were doing all of it, especially considering he hadn't even came out yet._

_Then things began to get worse. He was shoved in the corridors on top of the slushie facials. They didn't pull the chair out from under him any more, they pushed him off the chair._

_Then they started throwing him into the dumpster. At first it was just once a week. Then daily, ruining his best clothes. It seemed to be a kind of initiation for new players on the football team. He had noticed this when he didn't recognise the faces doing the throwing. _

_And David Karofsky was the ring leader of the harassment._

_Kurt thought that Karofsky just hated gay people, like every other homophobe on the planet. It wasn't until Karofsky pushed him up against the wall and stole his first kiss after school one day that he realised it wasn't so simple. No, Karofsky was _gay. _And in denial. And how could Kurt blame him for it after figuring that out? Kurt had been confused about his sexuality once too – although he had never been in denial and he had **never** harassed other people for accepting their sexuality when he couldn't._

_After the kiss Karofsky wasn't so involved in things and life for Kurt went on like normal, reverting to a dumpster toss once a week like before. Then Santana came out, one of the most popular girls in the school, and she was shunned. But she didn't care and if she did, she didn't show it. _

_In his sophomore year Kurt befriended Rachel Berry, a girl who had two gay dads and therefore was completely fine with Kurt. Things calmed._

_But then, somehow, Karofsky's friends found out he was gay. The hate he got for it was so intense that he had to change schools. When the other school found out, he got cyber bullied for it and harassed - not physically like Kurt but emotionally. Karofsky might have been gay in a homophobic high school but he was by no means small._

_ Then David Karofsky tried to commit suicide._

_Kurt couldn't believe that someone who had tormented him for so long could be made to feel so vulnerable that he wanted to take his own life. That was what made Kurt visit him in hospital and he was glad he did. Karofsky apologised to Kurt and Kurt forgave him, and when they went their own ways they parted without any more baggage._

* * *

_Present time:_

"I'm good, yeah!" Kurt decided not to mention how he was a consultant for the NYPD and assisting a really good looking guy - he knew that David hadn't ever gotten over his crush on him. Kurt didn't even entertain the thought of telling David that he was 'helping' the Police to catch himself, it didn't need to be said that that was a part of Kurt's life David was _never_ going to learn about.  
"David, why don't you join us?" Kurt said, motioning to the free chair at the table. "David and I went to school with each other." He explained to Puck as David sat down.

Puck nodded, looking slightly awkward. With a final sip he finished off his coffee and stood up, his chest and shoulders instantly more noticeable and it was more obvious just how ripped Puck was. Kurt hid a smile when he saw David's eyes widen and darken slightly as he looked Puck up and down appreciatively.

Thankfully, Puck was blissfully ignorant that he was being checked out by a 'dude'. "Well, how bout I leave you two to catch up? Kurt, I'll talk to you later man." Then Puck turned to David. "Nice to meet you, dude,"

David nodded, replying and sounding so over eager that Kurt let out a bark of laughter, quickly turning it into a cough when Puck looked at him in question and David glared at him."Yeah! Nice meeting you too!" David added on a hurried "Man." at the end of his sentence, trying and failing to sound casual.

Puck then left the shop, walking with his usual swagger. Kurt couldn't help but notice how David's eyes followed the motion of his hips.

David turned to Kurt the moment Puck was gone and a question came tumbling from his lips.

"You guys aren't like, together are you?" David said it awkwardly yet eagerly and Kurt laughed, cringing inwardly.

"No! No, no, no. God, no!" He laughed again. "No, Puck's just a friend. He's not gay,"

David nodded, his face falling, and he looked put out.

"That's a shame, he was hot." Kurt snickered and David grinned sheepishly. "Anyway, Kurt. What have you been up to?"

"Not much really," Kurt responded smoothly. "I share a flat with Rachel, she's on Broadway."

David looked taken aback. "Wow, Rachel Berry? Really? Rachel reindeer sweater Berry is on Broadway?" Kurt nodded.

"Yeah. All the jerks we knew back at McKinley were scrambling when she first started out, trying to get her to pass on CD's and audition tapes for them. She annihilated them, it was great."

David grinned. "I bet. So what do you do now? I always assumed you'd go down the fashion route to be honest, with the way you dressed in high school."

Kurt took a sip of his coffee, to stall, deliberating whether or not he should tell David about working with the NYPD - there was no way he was going to tell him about his _real _job - but before he could give an answer his cell rang and he sighed minutely in relief.

"One second," he said, seeing the picture he'd taken of Blaine flash across the screen.

Blaine had stayed at the office over night, finishing off paper work and when Kurt came in in the morning he'd found him asleep at his desk. Unable to let the opportunity pass him by, he'd drawn on his face and taken a picture. He couldn't stop himself from making the picture the detective's caller ID image and was glad Blaine hadn't ever seen it, he'd make him change the caller ID instantly if he knew. All with a flushing face... Kurt shook himself and reminded himself where he was and who he was talking to. He could think about Blaine later. Not that he would. But should he need to he would save it for a time where he wasn't talking to the guy who made his life a living hell in high school.

"I should take this," Kurt blurted out.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." David affirmed, looking about somewhat shiftily, glancing at the door of the Lima Bean for some reason. However Kurt didn't notice this, his attention was on his phone.

Kurt accepted the call. "Hello?"

Anderson groaned, "Not so loud,"

Kurt snorted, it seemed like he hadn't been the only one celebrating last night. He felt a pang of recognition go through him the instant he heard Blaine's hoarse voice.

* * *

_-"Take them off," the man's voice was low and rough from lust, pulling at Kurt's clothes. His eyes dark and his hair messy from where Kurt had been grabbing on to it. He stared at Kurt hungrily and leant in- _

* * *

Kurt shook his head and forced another laugh, "Are you hungover?" he asked, his voice off a little as he tried to think around the sudden burst of memory of the night before, suppressing the shivers running up his spine and the tingles he could feel sprouting in his belly.

"Yes" Anderson moaned. "Now stop _yelling _at me."

Kurt laughed again and Anderson let out a pained grunt as the sound reverberated through his skull.

"Shut _up_." Anderson whined and sighed in exasperation. Kurt could picture him holding his head on the other end of the phone and he laughed again. "Just come down to the station, we have a case."

Kurt frowned. "But it's Saturday." He pointed out in confusion. "And you're-"

"Doesn't matter," the detective said grouchily. "Crime waits for no one."

Kurt thought he heard the tapping of a keyboard on the other end of the line.

"Anderson, are you at work right _now_?" Kurt shook his head in shock. "Don't you allow yourself _any_ recovery time?"

"Just get here, Hummel."

Kurt looked at his phone in shock when all he heard was dial tone. Anderson had _hung up _on him_. He really must be in a bad mood, _Kurt thought in amusement and put his cell in his pocket.

"Who was that?" David asked and Kurt started. In all honesty Kurt had forgotten David was there.

"Work," Kurt said. "They're calling me in. I really have to go, they'll kill me if I'm late." Kurt didn't notice how David froze at the word 'kill' as he was pulling a piece of paper out of his suit jacket and jotted down his phone number. He handed it to David.

"It was great to see you David. Call me at some point, we'll have dinner and catch up properly." David accepted the paper and nodded, standing when Kurt did.

"That'd be great, I'll call you." They hugged quickly and slightly awkwardly and Kurt left with his coffee in a takeaway mug, David staying. If Kurt had looked back he would have seen the dark look cross David Karofsky's face and maybe he would have been better prepared for what was to come.

* * *

When Kurt got home that night it was thankfully to a Jesse free apartment. He heard the sounds of banging in the kitchen and he rushed through the flat, fearing what he would find.

"Rachel what are you _doing_?" Kurt asked when he saw Rachel pulling pots from the cupboard and set them on the cooker.

"I was going to cook dinner." she said, put out that her plans had been discovered. "You've been working really hard recently and I know that although you miss doing your _normal _job, that you've put a lot of effort into doing what you have been with Detective Anderson." she shrugged. "I thought it might be nice if I cooked to give you a break. You always cook."

Kurt chuckled and hugged Rachel quickly, bumping her aside with his hip as he took control. "That's really thoughtful of you Rachel, thank you. But you know there _is _a reason why I do the cooking. The thing is Rachel," He turned on the gas of the cooker, starting to boil the water for the pasta they were to be having for supper.

"You are _really _bad at it," He continued as he started preparing the bacon, mushrooms and cheese sauce for the carbonara.

"And I don't want you ruining any more pots," Kurt finished, causing Rachel to pout and Kurt laughed, patting her head when he passed, making her scrunch up her nose in surprise.

"How did your audition go?" He asked as he bounded around the kitchen in a blur, taking the time to push his shirt sleeves past his elbow and to wash his hands, now that he knew the danger of Rachel Berry cooking was no longer imminent. Rachel sat perched on the edge of the kitchen island, pouring two glasses of red wine. She got up and handed one of the glasses to him as he poured the pasta into the boiling water and started to stir the pasta in the saucepan. He sipped his wine and Rachel settled back on the counter.

"I think it went well," she said, thoughtfully. "I'll definitely get a call back, worse case scenario."

"Well, your resume is very impressive. If you did great in the audition then they'll just be going through the motions." Kurt said, starting on the sauce for the pasta. "What part were you aiming for?"

Rachel brightened and tossed her hair back. "The musical is a retelling of West Side Story. So, of course I'm aiming for Maria." She turned to Kurt thoughtfully. "Why don't you audition, Kurt?"

Kurt laughed and didn't answer, thinking she was joking. He began dicing tomatos in a blur of motion and then scraped them into a glass bowl with some lettuce, making a salad for the table.

"I'm _serious," _Rachel insisted. "Kurt, you went to NYADA too! And even if you don't want to audition for Tony, I can see why you wouldn't be anxious to be cast as the male lead, considering I'm pretty much a sure in for the female lead and my talent can be very intimidating-" Kurt snorted. "-Not to mention the publicity it would get you " Rachel continued. "But you can always start off as a chorus member! It would be fun!" Kurt decided that this had gone far enough as he added the bacon and mushrooms into the saucepan with the pasta. He'd added the cheese sauce a few minutes before.

"Rachel, I don't _want _to." Rachel scoffed. "No, you know what I mean," he chided. "I would like to be on Broadway one day, of course I would" he said as he put the completed salad on the middle of the table. "However – can you lay the table for me, Rach? Thanks - Right now, I'm perfectly happy with what I'm doing." He switched between stirring the pasta and chopping up some cucumber. "Besides, even being just a chorus member I'd get too much publicity. I need to keep my face out of the news, especially considering I think that the NYPD are likely to make a connection soon." Rachel looked up from where she was staring into her wine.

"What? Kurt! Why didn't you tell me?" Kurt shrugged.

"I'm not saying they'll ID me as Porcelain or anything! But Blaine-" Kurt saw Rachel shoot him a look, "-_Detective Anderson -_ god Rach you're such a snob sometimes – is likely to make some sort of connection! He knows me better than anyone, you know that." Kurt paused, "Well not _me _me, Porcelain me." He left the cooker to lean on the counter next to Rachel. "I'll be ready when it happens." Kurt decided to change the subject. "Dinner will be done in ten minutes. No Jesse tonight?" Rachel pulled a self righteous face.

"Kurt, just because we have previously dated does not mean we shall start off from where we left off. He hurt me before and he knows that so he understands why I feel the need to go slow. He won't be around here constantly like he was before." Kurt snickered and felt his cell ring in his pocket.

"Just keep telling yourself that, Rach." He flipped open his cell. "Hello?"

"Kurt, it's Puck. Dude, you better turn on the news," Kurt frowned and covered the receiver.

"Rach turn on the news," He instructed and Rachel reached for the remote to the small television in the kitchen. It only had about three channels, but one of them was the news.

"Puck what's wrong?"

"You'll see," Rachel turned on the television and flipped to channel three and frowned.

"Kurt, isn't that David Karofsky? From high school?" Kurt's head snapped to the television and his breath nearly stopped.

"Puck, I'll call you tomorrow, kay?" He said into his phone in shock. "Bye,"

He shut his cell and slipped it back into his pocket. There on the news was David Karofsky's picture, and the news anchor was informing the audience that;

_'David Karofsky is a twenty three year old, white, male. He is incredibly dangerous and the police have informed us that under no circumstances should he be approached. Mr Karofsky is believed to be behind the assassination of Mr Antony Motta that occurred nearly three months ago. He was last seen in New York four hours ago by a witness in Central Park.'_

Kurt didn't hear the rest, he was staring at the television in shock. Rachel turned it off.

"Kurt are you okay?" She questioned, touching him on the arm lightly.

"Huh?" he turned to her. "Uh, yeah. Of course, why wouldn't I be?" His alarm went off. "Oh, dinners ready. Go sit at the table," He didn't wait for her to reply and went to the cooker, turning it off and started to dish up the food.

Kurt had gotten over the shock about twenty minutes into dinner and since then had decided not to think about Karofsky whatsoever. After they had finished eating, Rachel poured Kurt another glass of wine and instructed him to go and do whatever. He had cooked, so she would wash up.

Kurt didn't argue and was currently nursing his glass of wine in the living room. He was trying hard to not think about not thinking about Karofsky and he was interrupted in doing so when the doorbell rang.

Thankful for the distraction, Kurt got up and answered the door. What he saw shocked him even more than learning David Karofsky was a wanted murderer. And that was David Karofsky standing outside his apartment.

"Kurt, I didn't do it." He insisted, not even saying hello. "I'm innocent."


	7. Chapter 07: Gun

**(A/N: Thank you for all the positive reviews for last chapter and for all the chapters so far :) It makes me really happy when I see the reviews from regular readers, you guys always make me smile. **

**Byubyu – I hope I cleared up a few things for you :) Enjoy the chapter, like I said before it may help you to understand the relationship between Blaine and Kurt more.**

**Now, some bad news. I'm probably not going to be able to update until the Summer Holidays. I'm still in High School and GCSE's are coming up, I'll be revising. **

**The reason this chapter took so long to come out is that it's longer than usual to make it a little better for you guys. Sorry, don't hate me! So... If all things go to plan you'll have the next update in a few months time. Sorry sorry sorry! Enjoy this chapter at least.**

**Also, this story's rating is being changed to M because of the flashbacks, it won't be explicit though)**

* * *

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_Thankful for the distraction, Kurt got up and answered the door. What he saw shocked him even more than learning David Karofsky was a wanted murderer. And that was David Karofsky standing outside his apartment._

"_Kurt, I didn't do it." He insisted, not even saying hello. "I'm innocent."_

**Chapter Seven: Gun**

"Okay, so let me get this straight." Kurt said for what felt like the thirtieth time, in disbelief. "You were framed?" David nodded. "Why?" Kurt asked, in astonishment.

Sure, David was a prick at High School but after that he'd mellowed out a ton, it honestly shocked him why anyone would target David for this. This was why Kurt didn't believe a word David was saying. It was all too much of a coincidence, that David would bump into Kurt on the very day that he'd been 'framed' for murder.

Before David had the chance to answer Rachel chimed in from behind him.

"Kurt I am really not comfortable with housing a fugitive." she shot a look at David, lowering her voice as if that would stop him from hearing her, even though he was in the same room. "Seriously. Kurt, _he killed someone-" _

"So have I Rachel!" Kurt exclaimed. "I've killed more than one person, you know that!" Rachel looked a bit taken aback and Kurt realised he may have been a bit too harsh. His voice softened and when he spoke again he was calmer. "And I know you're not comfortable with this, that's why he's only going to stay until this all blows over."

David had turned up at his apartment the night before, saying he was innocent. Kurt had let him stay the night because he didn't really want anyone to see a known murderer outside his apartment. It was far too late to start questioning David so he had let David sleep on the couch, whilst he and Rachel slept with their doors locked.

"I don't know why anyone would want to frame me," David answered Kurt's question. "And I have no idea who did. Just... dude, it wasn't me!"

Kurt groaned, running his hand over his face in frustration. This was getting him no where. He was just about to start questioning David once more but was stopped abruptly when his phone rang. Exhaling through his nose in quiet relief he grabbed his phone and flipped it to see who was calling him.

Kurt was a con man, so of course he didn't waste his time on really fancy expensive phones, considering that every few months at the latest he would have to dump them and get a new one in order to avoid the police. Kurt's current phone was sleek and understated, a flip up with a key pad. None of that touch screen shit, despite cracking safes and breaking into buildings as often as he did he still found touch screen's bloody frustrating and impossible to use.

At that moment the picture flashing on the screen was that of Blaine, indicating it was him calling. Kurt glanced up at the living room wall to check the time, on the Dali style clock that Rachel had insisted buying him the last time he made the mistake of taking her to a street market in New York.

He looked back to David and Rachel, who were eyeing each other suspiciously, and he muttered, "Give me a minute," rising up gracefully from the couch and moving out on to the balcony.

He flipped open the phone, turning his head to keep an eye on Karofsky by looking at him through the glass window in the door of the balcony, which opened outwards.

"Anderson," he greeted. Karofsky and Rachel weren't speaking.

"_Hummel, you need to come to the station." _

"We have a case?"

"_No, _I_ have a-_" Blaine cut himself off as he realised he'd risen to Kurt's bait, who – had he been less on edge – would have grinned at antagonising Blaine. _"Whatever Hummel, just be quick about it."_

Kurt snorted when Blaine hung up. He must have been in the station over night, he was in a foul mood. He snapped his phone shut and pocketed it, taking a moment to stare out at the city, the sight calming him slightly. He breathed out in one long exhalation and braced himself.

He walked back into the living room, where Rachel and David were sitting awkwardly. Well, David was sitting awkwardly, perched on the sofa like he was getting ready to take flight, Rachel was standing, hovering nearby like one does at the scene of a car crash.

They looked up when Kurt walked back in, the sheer silence in the room nearly slamming into him like a brick wall.

"Glad to see you two have so much in common," Kurt snarked, rolling his eyes. Neither Rachel or David bothered to pretend to be apologetic. "Whatever," Kurt dismissed, "I need to go to work, Blaine's called me in," He directed the last of his sentence to Rachel and the flash in his eyes was enough to warn her not to correct him on the usage of the detective's name.

Kurt wasn't sure why he wasn't letting David know about him being a consultant for the NYPD. All he knew was that it might prove useful later on to have a secret Detective on his side. Little did he know at the time, that was the only thing that would save him later on.

Kurt grabbed his coat and a hat and then left, but not after pulling Rachel aside and giving her a tazer gun, instructing her to use it if David tried anything. He stressed the anything when he was saying it and the way he looked at Rachel was enough for her to know how little he currently trusted David at the moment and how much he hated leaving her alone with him.

Rachel had nodded and agreed, telling him she'd be careful as she tucked the tazer gun in the back of her jeans, lifting her floaty summer shirt up to hide it.

Kurt turned and left the apartment, not hearing the sounds of fighting that broke out the moment he did.

* * *

Blaine looked at the time in impatience. He had called Kurt - _Hummel_ he corrected himself, cursing inwardly - at least a half hour ago and he normally got there in fifteen minutes. It was just as he was about to pull up Kurt's – _ Hummel's. _Blaine cursed himself again - tracking records that he heard a knock on his office door.

He looked up and saw Kurt standing in the doorway of his office, bearing gifts in the form of coffee, and felt that familiar jolt hit him. It had been happening far too much recently. He was starting to get incredibly annoyed at Kurt.

_Why does he have to look so fucking good all the time?_ Blaine groused to himself. He swore a lot more mentally than he did outwardly, something everyone who knew him would surely be very surprised at. _I mean, it's not like there's any girls here, its just me. _He shook himself out of his thoughts and greeted Kurt.

"Kur- _Hummel_," Blaine winced again, _fuck, _"You took your time." He noted, trying to make it seem like he was staring at the coffee and _not _Kur- _Hummel_.

"Good morning to you too, Blaine," Blaine started at the unexpected sound of Kurt – he decided to just give up on the Kurt/Hummel thing – saying his name and tried to hold of the shivers it produced. Then an unexpected _something _ flashed across his mind. Blaine didn't know whether it was a memory or what the fuck it was, but it was only now that he could remember it. Though if it_ was _a memory, and he hoped it was, it wasn't surprising he hadn't remembered considering just how wasted he had been that night.

* * *

_-"What's your name?" the beautiful man panted out, groaning in the middle of his sentence and tugging on Blaine's curls. Blaine ignored him, smirking as he made his way down his neck._

"_Please tell me your name – _god-"_ a pleading moan cut off the rest of his sentence as Blaine sucked on a particularly sensitive spot of his neck. The stranger was getting more and more impatient as Blaine continued to ignore him and that showed when he said once more, repeating the single thought running through his head in the way someone who was losing his mind would;_

"_I need to know your name-" he was cut of again as Blaine grinded their pelvises together, driving the stranger deeper into the wall of Blaine's apartment and the extremely vocal stranger positively _whined_._

"_Blaine," Blaine said, his voice hoarse from lust, snickering at the reactions he was pulling from the stranger, as his tongue teased the man's pale collarbone. "My name's Blaine," Instantly that was the only word the man seemed to be capable of using. _

"Blaine_," the stranger whined tugging at Blaine's curls to try and steal a kiss, but failing as Blaine stubbornly carried on making his way down the strangers torso..._

_A kiss placed in the most strategic of places had the man babbling in a mixture of swear words and expletives, driving a mew from his throat._

"_Blaine, _fuck, _please just-" -_

* * *

Blaine came back to the present to Kurt still talking, pulling himself further into the desk to hide the erection that the flashback had induced. He tried to ignore the tingles of recognition he felt and instead focused on what the consultant was saying, even as the familiar sound of Kurt's voice sent bolts of warmth to his groin.

"-sounded tired and a little bit grumpy to be honest, so I picked up your favourite at a little coffee shop I know,"

Blaine received the drink gladly, not remembering at what point Kurt had gotten close enough to him to be able to push the drink into his unresponsive hands.

"What do you mean my favourite?" He said, taking a sip and trying not to moan at the taste of the amazing coffee, made ten times better by just how exhausted he was.

"I'm good at guessing." Kurt's eyes flashed in amusement. "This is definitely your favourite."

Blaine hummed, taking another sip, rolling the drink around in his mouth like you would with a fine wine, completely ignorant to the way the motion made Kurt stare at his throat. He swallowed it and then took a moment to pretend to consider.

"Nope," Blaine said, ignorant also to the way Kurt's eyes snapped up from where they were staring, to look at his face. "Not my favourite. Close, but, not close enough. Thanks though Kur- _Hummel._" Blaine flushed slightly at slipping up once more, fortunately Kurt didn't seem to notice.

"Huh, okay. I'll keep that in mind."

Blaine winced inwardly at the sound of determination in the consultants voice. He was sure that Hummel would turn up to work daily with a new brand of delicious coffee just to find his favourite and beat him. But then he perked up. That meant more free, _awesome, _coffee. He made a mental note to find out where Kurt got the coffee from, as he took another sip. It really was amazing.

"Any way, Kur- _Hummel_," Blaine cursed himself again, ignoring the look of amusement flash across Kurt's face which said that, yeah, the consultant had definitely picked up his slip this time.

"Our new case. Did you watch the news last night?" Kurt froze, but Blaine hadn't noticed, he was still trying to keep his arousal under control and his left leg had started to go numb, due to him being seated in the same position for the last ten hours or so. Now that he_ needed _to get up, he couldn't. _That says a lot about how my shitty luck works, _Blaine thought, managing to restrain himself from rolling his eyes in frustration.

"No," Kurt said smoothly, and Blaine looked up to see the look of innocence and curiosity on the consultants face – both completely fake mind you.

"Okay, well we think we know who killed Antony Motta three months ago, so we need to go to Central Park and work back from there-"

Kurt's eyes flashed and he interrupted Blaine. "Why do we have this case? It's murder, right? Not White Collar. Shouldn't the homicide team take care of it?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "_Yes, _it's murder. But, I'm guessing you didn't pay much attention to Motta's murder in the News – you really should watch the news Kurt, knowledge of what going on in the world is really important - the assassin copied Porcelain's M.O. I guess he was hoping it would get pinned on Porcelain-" Kurt froze at that but the detective didn't seem to notice as he paused to take another sip of coffee.

"So, we think that if he copied Porcelain at the start he's going to continue doing so. I know Porcelain the best-" Kurt snorted but Blaine carried on obliviously, "therefore I've been given the case." Kurt eyes flashed as something occurred to him.

"So, why am I here then? I'm not an expert on Porcelain so surely I won't be any help to you,"

Blaine froze. Why_ had _he called in Kurt? He cursed himself once more.

"Just cause," He replied lamely, his face growing warm. He felt overwhelming gratitude that his Italian lineage didn't show in his complexion. He was actually fairly tanned, which was something he constantly thanked his genes for. If he wasn't Kurt would _definitely _have seen him blush. Blaine quickly changed the subject. "So, Central Park. Now. Come on."

Kurt snickered and lead the way out, much to Blaine's relief.

He stood awkwardly and did up his suit jacket, glad it was so long. It would have to do until he… calmed down. He winced as the fabric grated over his erection and followed Kurt, his cheeks slightly flushed, just glad Kurt hadn't noticed. He felt like a teenager again, getting hard at everything.

_Thirty minutes later:_

"So," Kurt said, face lax in his boredom. "What are we looking for, exactly?"

Blaine looked at him over his shoulder. "We're looking for signs of disturbance. Maybe Karofsky," he didn't notice Kurt's eyes flash at the mention of the murderer and carried on talking obliviously. "dropped something. He may have stored a weapon around here, or he may have contacts here waiting for him. This is the last place he was seen, so this is where we'll start."

Kurt nodded, and Blaine rolled his eyes at the obvious disinterest Kurt was taking in this case, not even bothering to_ pretend _he was helping. Blaine decided to ignore him and carried on searching, Kurt pretending to every so often whenever Blaine was about to tell him off for not doing anything.

They were in Central Park for hours and when the sun started to set Kurt finally made Blaine call it quits.

"We've been here all day," he complained. "If we were going to find anything we'd have done it by now."

Blaine sighed and nodded, standing up from where he was crouched looking at a fountain for hiding places.

"You're right," he said and Kurt nodded.

"Of course I'm right," He said matter of factly and Blaine snorted, turning and leading them out of the Park. Kurt was confused when Blaine didn't hail a cab.

"Where are we going?"

Blaine nodded to the coffee shop that was on the other side of the street (not 'The Lima Bean' but hey, beggars can't be choosers.)

"There," Blaine said and Kurt started to protest. Blaine just shook his head.

"I've kept you all day in the heat, looking about Central Park for non existent clues." Blaine stated. "The least I can do is get you a coffee," Kurt hesitated but finally gave in after Blaine badgered him for a minute straight.

Once they had gotten their drinks, Blaine letting Kurt order for them both, they settled down at a table in front of the mirror and Blaine did his best to quench down the feelings of 'First date' that the whole situation was reminiscent of.

Blaine took a sip of his coffee, not as nice as what Kurt had brought him that morning, and noticed Kurt looking at him over the edge of his cup. "What?" He asked.

"I was just thinking..." Kurt said, "We don't really know much about each other, do we?"

Blaine shook his head. "No, I guess not," He agreed.

Kurt leant back in his seat and looked at Blaine expectantly. "What?" Blaine asked and then laughed at the pointed look Kurt sent him.

"_What_?" He asked again and Kurt shook his head in exasperation.

"That was the cue for you to tell me about you," Kurt hinted and Blaine chuckled.

"Um, okay." He said, calming down. "What do you want to know?"

"Where are you from?"

"Ohio." Kurt looked at him in surprise and then laughed.

"No shit?" Blaine started at the unexpected curse and looked at Kurt in shock, who ignored it and simply continued. "I'm from Ohio too!"

"Wow! What a small world! Whereabouts are you from?"

Kurt pulled a face. "Lima," and Blaine winced.

"Damn."

"Yeah,"

There was a brief lull in the conversation before Kurt remembered he was meant to be asking questions.

"Any brothers or sisters?" Blaine groaned and Kurt laughed.

"Oh my god, don't get me started. My older brother, Cooper, is such a bastard." Kurt snickered and for the next hour they complained about family and friends and stupid Ohio. Before they knew it it was time to go and they parted ways jovially.

* * *

The instant Blaine was gone Kurt's face darkened. He'd managed to push aside the absolute rage he'd been feeling since Blaine told him about Karofsky trying to pin the murder on Porcelain but it all came rushing back.

He hailed a cab and told him the address, his tone icy, and he didn't speak to the slightly terrified driver once the entire journey.

When Kurt got home he was beyond pissed. Somehow Karofsky knew he was Porcelain, that was the only explanation for him making contact again after so long, especially when you added it to the fact David was the murderer of Antony Motta.

He walked into the apartment cautiously, knowing that David was still here. He didn't hear anything and so made his way to his room, getting changed into black skinny jeans and a black form fitting short sleeved work out top – preparing for whatever was to come with David. He figured it would be best to confront him in his Porcelain persona and not as Kurt, and the clothes he changed into were what he wore whenever he pulled a heist.

He came out of the his room and noticed all the lights in the apartment were out. Instantly, he was suspicious. When he got into the kitchen he stopped in shock and horror.

Rachel was sitting on a kitchen chair, tied and gagged, and David Karofsky had a gun pressed to the back of her skull. Her eyes were white in fear and tear tracks were running down her face. It was Kurt's guess that Rachel had been like that from the moment he left for the station. He cursed himself and the time he wasted with Blaine at the coffee shop. All thoughts of proceeding as Porcelain flew out of is head.

"David," he greeted warily, on edge and ready for a fight.

"Kurt," he responded, then his eyes widened in fake speculation. "Or should I call you Porcelain?"

"Let me guess," Kurt snarked, ignoring Karofsky's remark cautiously. "You _did _kill Antony Motta?"

David grinned crazily, his eyes tight and the look in them was wild. It was the eyes of a man who had lost everything and didn't care who he hurt as long as they lost everything too. He didn't answer.

"Why are you doing this David? What does scaring Rachel give you? For that matter what does trying to frame Porcelain for Antony Motta's murder-"

"_You are Porcelain!_" David exploded. "_Don't try and pretend that you're not!_"

Kurt proceeded cautiously. "Alright David, okay. Just … Calm down. Why don't you let Rachel go and we'll continue this discussion elsewhere?"

"And have her call the police?" David laughed and Kurt could hear how unstable he was in it. "I don't think so,"

"Then lock her in the bathroom," Kurt said, using all the people skills he had and it was showing. Kurt - Porcelain - had been nicknamed 'Silver Tongue' for months before the media and the police received his first calling card, which had proclaimed him to be called 'Porcelain'.

"We can go up to the roof," Kurt continued. "No one will know about this."

David nodded, breathing heavily. "Okay," his tongue slipped out to lick his dry lips, his eyes roaming the room crazily. "Sure, yeah." He grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and lifted her, chair and all, up into the air, putting his old soccer player muscles to good use. Ten seconds later and she was in the bathroom.

Kurt tucked a crafts knife he used when forging sculptures up his sleeve before David got back and then he was there, pointing the gun at Kurt and motioning him out of the room. Kurt had a plan. A really _risky _plan but a plan nonetheless.

* * *

It was cold on the roof, the wind pulling at their clothes, and Kurt could just barely make out the form of Karofsky in the dark. Kurt on the other hand was nearer to the edge of the roof and his body formed a silhouette against the moon, the shadows masking his face.

Kurt allowed the crafts knife to slide down his sleeve to poke at the tracking bracelet on his wrist and he started rubbing. The knife was cutting a groove into it and he tried to stall as David pointed the gun at him.

"Why are you doing this David?" He repeated the question from before and Karofsky grinned feverishly. It was more of a bearing of teeth than anything.

"You killed my cousin," Karofsky said, teeth gritted in what was probably supposed to be a snarl. "George Haversham."

Kurt remembered. George Haversham was a member of Jesse's crew, whom Jesse had thought was selling information to the police. When Kurt was in the crew he took the role of thief and assassin and as such Jesse had tasked him with killing Haversham.

He'd not wanted to kill George but he knew the danger he posed, not just for Jesse but also for him as Porcelain. Then he found out about George's paedophilic tendencies and the decision was made infinitely easier for him.

"George was the only person in my family who didn't care that I was gay," David spat.

_No shit, _Kurt thought, _he liked fucking kids, I highly doubt he cared that you're into guys. _Kurt didn't voice this however and just continued the quiet and small motions he was making with the craft knife.

"He cared for me. He was like my brother. And you _killed _him Kurt."

"It was my job," Kurt said, glad that the wind was loud as in that instant the craft knife cut through the tracker and it made a series of beeping noises. He kept talking to drown the sound out further. "_I _would have been killed if I hadn't done it."

He kept his hands behind his back and then nudged the cut links of the tracker apart and then back together again, making a spark and causing a brief moment where the tracker's signal connected again. He did this again and again, variating the lengths of pauses as he kept up a calm façade, to look like he wasn't doing anything whatsoever.

David snarled in rage. "_Then you should have died,_" Karofsky spat. "Are you so arrogant to think that he wouldn't have family coming to avenge him?"

Kurt carried on stalling, hoping Blaine had gotten the message.

_Come on Blaine, _he thought. _If there's one time your not trusting me could come in useful, then this would be it. And for gods sake use your head! Don't just come barging in here, guns blazing!_

* * *

Blaine looked up from his paper work as his monitor made a series of loud beeping noises. He instantly sat up straight and stared. That was Kurt's tracking signal. And it was going crazy. He pulled up the screen and then started when he saw that Kurt had cut his tracking bracelet.

_What the fuck? _Blaine thought, clicking to zoom in. _Kurt, what the hell do you think you're doing?_

He looked as the signal kept cutting out and re kindling only to cut out again.

"What...?" He voiced his confusion out loud and then he noticed. Long pause, short, dash dot dash pause...

Morse code.

One evening Blaine had made Kurt stay really late to help wrap up a case and he had been tapping on Blaine's desk relentlessly in his boredom. After about a half hour Blaine had realised that Kurt was tapping _Stupid detective _over and over again in Morse Code, varying it sometimes with swear words thrown in the middle.

Blaine had flicked Kurt on the middle of his forehead and Kurt had stuck his tongue out at him as soon as he'd realised that Blaine knew Morse Code too. For the rest of the evening they had traded insults via tapping on Blaine's desk.

His brain immediately started translating the dips of signal and Blaine paled.

_Karofsky_. It said. _Roof._

Blaine's mind went blank in panic and without considering the dangers of going without backup he ran out of his office instantly, hailing down a cab as quickly as possible, spitting out the address that Kurt's tracking record had said he was last to the driver.

The fifteen minute journey was like being in purgatory and Blaine was on the edge of his seat, his leg twitching as he just wished that they could _get there already. _The taxi pulled up outside of the building and Blaine tossed two twenties to the driver, telling him to keep the change.

"Jeez, thanks Mister-" The driver said in thanks and surprise but Blaine was already gone, taking the stairs of the building two at a time, getting a stitch but not caring, just hoping he'd get there in time and that the last thing he'd said to Kurt hadn't been 'See you tomorrow,'

He burst out onto the roof and saw Karofsky pointing a gun at... Blaine stared.

"_Porcelain?"_ The two men turned to stare at the new arrival and Blaine, acting on pure instinct at Karofsky's sudden movement, shot at Karofsky; taking him in the shoulder and causing him to fall to the ground, managing to knock himself out by whacking his head on one of the pipes sticking haphazardly out of the roof.

Blaine surged forward and handcuffed the fugitive . Then he turned to Porcelain.

"What are you doing here, Porcelain?" Porcelain's face was in the shadows so he couldn't see it (not that it made a difference, every other time they'd met face to face Porcelain had been wearing a mask), but he'd recognise that body frame and that _stupid, _incredibly _hot _outfit anywhere.

"Tracking down Karofsky, of course," Porcelain's smooth, sweet voice floated to him from the shadows. "He was trying to frame me for _murder, _detective. I only murder people who deserve it and Antony Motta didn't."

Blaine snorted, inching closer to Porcelain, not noticing that Porcelain was scooting backwards, to the edge of the building.

"That's not your decision Porcelain," He said, warningly and Porcelain smirked, that much he could see.

Then Blaine remembered Kurt.

"Where's Kurt?" Blaine asked, keeping his gun steady and pointed at Porcelain.

"Who's Kurt?" Porcelain asked, but Blaine didn't buy it.

Kurt could see that he didn't from the look on his face and he quickly said something that sounded vaguely like something the Porcelain who hadn't gotten to know Blaine as well as Kurt had would say.

"Oh, you mean the really pale hotty who Karofsky was holding hostage inside his own apartment?"

Blaine stared in horror and Kurt winced. Maybe that wasn't his best idea. As Porcelain he snorted, rolling his eyes as he deliberately misinterpreted the reason for the detective's shock.

"Don't worry detective, I didn't touch a hair on that pretty boy's head. I managed to lure Karofsky out here and Karl is in his apartment with his room-mate, safe and sound."

Blaine had gotten over his shock and instead he started growing angry for no good reason, making his way across the roof to Porcelain, crossing the five feet between them in three easy bounds.

"His name," he snarled, pulling Porcelain forward by his collar, in an attempt at intimidation. "Is Kurt,".

Time stopped for a moment, the silence only broken by the sound of their suddenly fast breathing. All Blaine could see was the ice blue eyes of Porcelain and his vision swam with it. Porcelain smirked, their breath mingling.

"That's what I said, cupcake," He said, his voice coming out hushed and breathy, loud in the quiet.

His face seemed indecisive but then it hardened and before Blaine knew what was happening Porcelain had leant forward slightly to brush their lips, lightly, so light that it hardly even counted as a kiss. It lasted for what felt like an hour but was probably only ten seconds. They parted, only for Porcelain to push Blaine away, Porcelain himself falling over the side of the building.

Blaine stared in horror, his surprise at the sudden contact wearing off and, his lips still tingling, hurried over to the side, expecting to see Porcelain smeared on the side walk. Instead he saw nothing.

Standing there for a moment in confusion he snapped out of it when he remembered Kurt and he turned, opening the roof door and taking the steps two at a time to get to Kurt's apartment, knowing it was the pent house because Kurt had rambled on about the stupid view of the skyline more times than Blaine could count. More times Blaine _wanted _to count, to be honest.

He opened his phone and called Artie on the way, telling him to get a team over to Kurt's building in order to pick up Karofsky, skidding to a stop in front of Kurt's door and pounding his fist onto the wood of the door, making it shake in its frame.

* * *

Kurt stole himself, reasoning it _was_ something that Porcelain - as Blaine knew him - would do to distract him and so he did it. He leant forward a tad to brush his lips against Blaine's, something that if he was honest with himself, he'd been wanting to do for _days, _years even. Right from the moment he and the detective's eyes had first met, standing on a roof just like this, in the dark...

_5 Years Earlier (Give or take a few months):_

_Kurt smirked, looking over his shoulder briefly to check he wasn't being followed. And froze. There, was a man. He was obviously a detective. _But a new detective,_ Kurt thought to himself, noting the fresh face of the man and how young he was. _This will be easy.

_Kurt kept his back to the man, showing no fear and no worry in his body language, keeping his face turned away from the detective the entire time._

"_Hello Detective." He called behind him cheerily. The detective didn't come any closer nor did he shoot. Kurt was standing right on the edge of the roof and the detective obviously didn't want something to happen to him. If he did then Kurt couldn't be arrested and there would be some sort of penalization for the detective himself for letting it happen._

"_It's a lovely night isn't it?" Kurt continued and he could practically _hear _the man's confusion._

_This was the first time any officer had gotten a look at the criminal they (now) knew to be called Porcelain. _

"_Porcelain, I presume." The detective said, smooth and collected. Kurt smirked._

_"Yes. What's _your_ name?" The city lights were shining and Kurt's mind yelled at him. _What are you doing? _It screamed, _Don't stand here flirting with the man! Get out, get out! We've done so much, we can't be caught now!

"_I'm Detective Anderson," the man said and Kurt savored the new knowledge. "Porcelain, please step away from the edge with your hands in the air." Kurt laughed._

"_You like it kinky then, eh?" He flirted before he could stop himself and he could see the detective swallow, even in that low lighting._

"_That's not what I- Porcelain are you going to come quietly or must I resort to force?" Kurt's eyes shone. The detective was practically setting himself up for innuendos._

"_Oh, Detective," Kurt's voice came out low and husky. "I never come quietly. But by all means resort to force if you think it will help." It was clear that Kurt was in no way talking about being arrested and he was instantly incredibly amused as the detective started spluttering._

"_Sorry, hun." Kurt said, slightly condescendingly. "I'm gay and you're pretty. I'm not going to stop any time soon." Kurt stepped up onto the ledge of the building. "Nothing against your remarkable company but I must be going. I have something I need to see to." And with that Kurt stepped off of the building, free falling for about a second before catching himself on the ledge of a balcony and pulling himself on to it, picking the lock of the door in a second and he was inside the strange apartment seconds before the detective had managed to come back to life and rush to the side of the roof._

The circumstance at the moment however was incredibly familiar, a light kiss shared in the most intimate of circumstances, and Kurt shivered slightly at the tingling it caused and then... remembered.

* * *

_-"Please tell me your name – _god-"_ a pleading moan forcing its way through his throat cut off the rest of his sentence as the stranger sucked vigorously on a particularly sensitive spot, underneath his earlobe. Kurt had to give it to him, he was going all out._

"_I need to know your name-" he was cut of again as the man grinded their pelvises together, Kurt getting pushed harder into the wall at his back, his legs around the strangers waist. Kurt whined, begging. _

"_Blaine," (_Kurt nearly fell over in the present)._ The man said, his voice low and gravely, sending shivers down Kurt's spine. He didn't recognise the name in his drunken state. Blaine snickered at how vocal Kurt was being but Kurt didn't pay attention because he could feel Blaine's tongue tracing patterns into his collarbone, hot, smooth and deliciously damp. He felt like he was loosing his mind. "My name's Blaine,"._

"Blaine_," Kurt tried the name out on his tongue, tugging at Blaine's curls to try and force his head up so that he could steal a kiss, but failing as Blaine stubbornly made his way down to suck at Kurt's torso. Kurt knew he'd have hickey's there in the morning. Blaine kissed the tip of Kurt's rock hard arousal, his tongue flicking out to lightly lick at the tip, and Kurt couldn't stop his hips from jutting upwards. _

"_Blaine, _fuck, _please just-" Blaine, frustrated at yet another interruption, slammed Kurt against the wall, supporting him more as he brought his head back up to meet Kurt's, their noses brushing. Blaine leant forward slightly, and their lips brushed chastely, giving Kurt no satisfaction. "Better?" He said, eyes flashing as he smirked, knowing that all he'd done was make it _worse _and Kurt was going to explode if Blaine kept looking at him like that-_

* * *

Kurt came back to himself realising that, first of all, he'd slept with Blaine _freaking _Anderson, his_ boss _and the man who'd been trying to put him in jail for _years_, and secondly that the way he was kissing Blaine now was more or less mirroring the way Blaine kissed him that night. Immediately, Kurt pulled back, fearing that it would spark Blaine's memory just as it had his. There was no way that Blaine knew it was Kurt who he'd slept with, otherwise work would have been much more awkward.

In a moment of panic, he pushed Blaine away and then flung himself off the roof, like he'd planned and just like he had the first time he and Blaine had met. Once again he aimed for a balcony. His balcony. It was a fall of maybe fifteen feet, not very far considering he'd fallen from higher heights when robbing banks, (the most ridiculed form of thievery in the crime world, a low point in Kurt's career)_,_ but Kurt was nonetheless thankful for the deck chair he and Rachel kept out there for sunny days. It softened his landing and Kurt rolled off, slightly winded, to open the balcony door, letting himself in to the apartment. He wasn't surprised to see Rachel out of the bathroom, he'd taught her how to pick locks and get out of bondings long ago.

He went over to her immediately. "Are you okay, Rachel?" He pulled her into a hug desperately, as he started babbling his apologies."I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you with him, I didn't trust him in the first pla-"

"Kurt, it's okay." Rachel interrupted him. "It's your fault of course, because you were the one who left me alone with him. But you _did _leave me a tazer and you didn't think that he'd actually done it, you thought he was innocent. And I'm not hurt, just scared," Kurt felt worse instantly. "But that's fine," she hurried to reassure him. "I can play parts more accurately now. You know I've always wanted to play Christine in Phantom, and while I might not be able to hit the highest notes just yet, this will help me with acting the character. The whole being-kidnapped-by-an-insane -maniac experience will add to my performance."

Kurt laughed breathlessly, still feeling slightly guilty. Trust Rachel to be thinking about how it would help her as an actress. "I'm still sorry," he said. "I'll get you tickets for Wicked-" he began to promise but heard banging at the front door and froze.

"Shit, that's probably Blaine," he said, nervously. "Rachel, answer the door and stall him. Don't let him in until I'm back, say you think its David or, or Porcelain or... Or something. I need to get changed out of these clothes."

Rachel nodded, still efficient and composed even after such an ordeal, and she went over to the door. She wouldn't find it difficult, Kurt knew. She was an actress after all.

Changing as quickly as he could into the clothes he'd worn to work, he made sure to mess up his hair, like he'd been in a scuffle and then he went to the door, where Rachel was still stalling.

"How do I know you're not Karofsky back for more?" she said, her voice shaking like she was scared. "Or _Porcelain_," she whispered, and Kurt appreciated that she was acting more scared of Porcelain than Karofsky, even if it didn't really help him right at that moment.

"Just tell Kurt to come over, he'll recognize my voice." Blaine sounded exasperated but still relieved that Kurt was okay.

"That's Blaine, Rachel, you can let him in." Kurt said and Rachel nodded, looking slightly teary and Kurt mouthed to her. _'Nice' . _She grinned and gave him a thumbs up, then opened the door but with the chain on. Kurt sent her a questioning look. _'Continuity'_ she mouthed in explanation and Kurt nodded.

"Is that him Kurt?" She asked, in a whisper and Kurt rolled his eyes at her theatrics.

"Yes, that's definitely him."

"Oh. Okay," she took off the chain and opened the door fully. Blaine came in and instantly was at Kurt's side, checking him over with hands and eyes for injuries.

"Are you alight?" He demanded, slightly crazily and Kurt nodded.

"Blaine," Blaine didn't stop searching him for injuries. "Blaine, stop."He continued with his search and Kurt chuckled, amused. "Blaine, I'm _fine_."

Blaine stopped and exhaled through his nose gustily, as his eyes continued checking him over.

"Are you sure?" Blaine and Kurt looked into each others eyes and Rachel felt like she would be interrupting an intimate moment, but she did so anyway, knowing Kurt would thank her later. He'd told her that he couldn't let Blaine know he was gay and that meant no intimate moments, whatsoever.

"We're both okay," she said, her voice wobbling as she continued with her act. "Karofsky didn't hurt us." When Blaine turned his attention to Rachel, Kurt sent her a grateful look.

"Porcelain came just in time," Kurt added and instantly had Blaine's attention again.

"Porcelain was in here?" He demanded. Kurt nodded and Rachel looked confused. "Was he wearing gloves?" Kurt shrugged.

"I wasn't paying attention, to be honest. I was a bit too preoccupied with staying alive." Blaine cursed and then instantly was off, going around the apartment to get prints off of everything.

While Blaine was occupied Rachel turned to Kurt. "_Porcelain _was here, Kurt?" She asked him, inclining her head to where Blaine had left and he nodded.

"Yeah," he said at normal volume and then continued in a whisper. "Blaine mistook me for Porcelain when we were on the roof and I couldn't very well tell him I wasn't Porcelain could I? Otherwise he would known something was up, so I just went with it." Rachel looked sceptical. "I jumped off the roof onto the balcony." He added, still whispering, and her expression cleared. She whispered back.

"Oh, like that time when you and Puck pulled a Casino Royale two years ago?" Kurt nodded and she hit him.

"Ow, what- Rachel!"

"You promised you wouldn't jump off the roof again!" She hissed, louder than a whisper now and Kurt panicked.

"Rachel, shut up," Kurt hissed, looking towards the door, where Blaine was brushing the kitchen for prints. "He might hear you." Kurt was glad he'd hidden his Porcelain clothes in the back of his wardrobe when he'd gotten changed in his bedroom. Knowing Blaine he'd probably go in there too. Thinking about Blaine and bedroom all in the same sentence made Kurt feel a little flushed so he tried in vain to put it out of his mind, instead paying attention to the situation at hand.

Rachel still looked angry about Kurt taking a swan dive off of the roof but then Blaine came back and she had to stop being angry and refocus on acting the victimized innocent.

"Find anything?" Kurt asked and Blaine shook his head in frustration.

"No the only prints I could find were yours, Rachel's and Karofsky's. He probably worked the camera angles too so there's no point checking them." Kurt fought the urge to sigh in relief.

He had been worried that Blaine _would _check the camera's and of course what he would see would be Kurt in his Porcelain clothes. If he was lucky, he'd remembered to work the camera's whilst he was being dragged by that Neanderthal - David - to the roof. He'd finally caught a break, so that was good news.

Kurt realized something and he started panicking. He didn't show it outwardly though, instead he turned to Blaine. "Blaine, speaking of, where_ is _Karofsky?"

"Handcuffed and knocked out on the roof. A team should be arriving any second to pick him up." Kurt nodded.

"Okay," he glanced to Rachel and saw that she was eyeing him suspiciously. "Um," Kurt pretended to grimace awkwardly. "I really need the bathroom, we've been trussed up like Christmas turkey's for nearly two hours. Do you mind...?" He glanced at Blaine.

"No, go ahead." He said. "I'll just wait for the team with Rachel." He turned to her. "Can I make you a coffee? You look like you need one." She nodded, still looking at Kurt as he made his way to the bathroom.

As soon as he'd shut the door behind him he became serious, his expression going grim. He opened his phone and dialled Puck's number.

"Puck, I need you to kill someone." He said, not even greeting him, keeping his voice low and looking out of the bathroom window, which over looked the front of the building. That was where the team of police cars would pull up to arrest Karofsky. And he couldn't have that. Karofsky would tell them that he was Porcelain and then everything he'd done so would be for nought.

He felt that familiar cold detachment he'd came close to perfecting when he worked assassinations and kept it up, even though somewhere inside of himself he was ashamed and angry that he found it so easy to do this.

"_Yes! Dude, you don't know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that! It's St James isn't it? It's gotta be! You changed your mind-"  
_

"No!" He almost pulled away to look at his phone in ridicule. _Puck, honestly. _"No, I need you to kill David Karofsky. He killed Antony Motta, tried to pin it on _Porcelain_ and he knows the identity of _Porcelain_. He's going to be arrested by Detective Anderson's team in any time between ten minutes and thirty minutes." Kurt glanced at the bathroom door, keeping his voice low. His unnecessary use of his criminal alias enough to notify Puck that he couldn't really talk that freely at the moment.

"_Oh. Okay. Is that detective with you?"_ Kurt loved that Puck never questioned his decisions. That he trusted Kurt enough to know he wasn't fucking things up.

"No, nearby."

"_Shit, okay. Where's Karofsky?"  
_

"On the roof of my building," Puck whistled and Kurt could hear him tell his address to a taxi driver. "He's handcuffed. You'll need to wear gloves."

"_How'd you want it done?"_

"Hit him on the head. He should still be knocked out and I need you to make it look like he died from the fall. In and out, Puck, don't take risks." Kurt heard Puck pause on the other end, could nearly hear Puck's brain whirring.

"_Any camera's in the building or-"_

"Yes, every floor, the front door and in the elevator. You'll want to climb the outside of the building or get onto the roof of one of the buildings beside it and cross over. It should be easy to jump it, the gap's minuscule."

"_Alright Hummel,"_

"How much?"

"_Hummel, I don't want your money. You're a friend. Just... When you eventually need St James gone let me get the bastard."_

"Thanks Puck." He glanced outside the building again and saw a yellow cab pull up outside the building. "You've beat them here, but probably not by long."

"_You don't need to tell me how to do my job, Kurt." _He could hear the amusement in Puck's voice. _"Let me get on with it and I'll get it done." _

"Okay." Kurt paused. "Do you think-"

"_I can do it, Kurt. This isn't my first time," _Kurt rolled his eyes as Puck snorted.

"Tell me when it's done. Thanks,"

"_Any time bro." _

Kurt snapped his phone shut and flushed the toilet, washed his hands and then came out of the bathroom. He made his way to the kitchen and to his horror heard Rachel telling stories of their time in NYADA.

"So, Kurt ran down the hall, _b__utt naked_, his junk flapping about for everyone to see-"

"Oh my god," Blaine was laughing so hard he was crying. "I can't believe-"

"Rachel!" Rachel looked at Kurt with a smug grin on her face as Blaine carried on laughing himself sick.

"Yes Kurt?" She asked sweetly.

"You better not have been-"

"Telling Blaine all about your first month at NYADA? What ever gave you that idea?" Her eyes sparkled.

"Is that right?" he smirked evilly. "Very well, then. Blaine you're going to want to hear_ this _story."

Blaine looked up, wiping his eyes, still chuckling slightly.

"It was her first year at NYADA and Rachel wanted to audition for the yearly musical, which at that time was going to be 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show," Rachel glared at Kurt.

"Kurt don't you _dare-"_

Kurt spoke louder to drown out her words. "She wanted to play Janet, of course. The only problem was-"

"_Kurt _I will burn your wardrobe you know I will-" Thankfully Blaine wasn't paying attention to Rachel, he was too wrapped up in what Kurt was saying. If he had, he'd probably have questioned why Kurt would care so much about his clothes when he supposedly wasn't gay.

"- That year they were having all the female parts played by the guys and all the male parts played by the girls." Kurt spoke louder to drown out Rachel's threats, knowing she wouldn't go through with it. "Of course, Rachel didn't let that stop her. She auditioned for the role of Janet, by dressing like a boy dressed as a girl and she acted like a boy acting for a the part of a girl, the part being Janet. Sure, she puts it on her resume now and the directors are all very impressed with her acting skills but that entire year she had to dress as a boy and pretend to be a boy. _That included during classes. _So, things were _very _awkward that year because she had to stay in the boys dorms and they were incredibly confused when she refused to share bathrooms and why she had tampons packed-"

Rachel decided to go to drastic measures to stop Kurt from continuing, and that was by covering his mouth with her hand.

"I didn't finish _my _story, Detective Anderson." she said, glaring at Kurt who was smirking underneath her hand, whilst Blaine looked on incredibly amused.

"Where was I? Oh yes, Kurt running helter pelter, naked, down the corridors. It wouldn't be as bad, if he hadn't been running away from the guys in band, and as such he wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He ran straight into our chorus teacher, naked. But-" she leant in. "The teacher's name was Mr Smythe. He was twenty four years old, gay and _incredibly _receptive to student's sexual advances. He had Kurt half way up the wall before he realised Kurt was_- Kurt that's absolutely disgusting!_"

Rachel was interrupted from telling Blaine how Kurt met Sebastian as she wrenched her hand away from Kurt's mouth and wiped it on her trousers, getting rid of the saliva from where Kurt had licked her hand.

Blaine and Kurt were still laughing when the knock on the door came.

Kurt went to open it and saw Officer Chang, the man who had escorted him to the station the first day he was a consultant. "Officer Chang! Come on in!"

The Officer went on in, but Kurt stayed at the door when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

_Done – Puck_

Kurt sighed in relief and responded quickly, bumping the door closed with his hip.

_Thanks Puck – Kurt_

When he returned to the kitchen it was to Blaine cursing and hitting the table with a fist and Rachel looking unsurprised as Officer Chang just stood their looking awkward. "What happened?" Kurt asked, innocently.

"Karofsky's dead." Blaine spat.

"Was it Porcelain?"

"No. He did it himself, it was when he knocked himself out." Blaine looked ready to kick himself.

Kurt turned his head to hide his grin. _I need to steal Puck something expensive. _He thought.

Blaine and Officer Chang were gone within the next ten minutes, Kurt promising Blaine he'd come in to the station bright and early the next day for work, despite Blaine insisting he take time off to recover.

The minute they were gone Rachel was at Kurt's side, hitting him.

"God dammit, Rachel!" He tried to get away but she forced him into a corner and carried on hitting every part of him she could reach. "Are you _insane? _What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"You killed Karofsky!" She carried on hitting him.

"Wha- No I didn't!" she stopped hitting him for a second and grudgingly he elaborated. "Puck did,"

he grunted in pain as she started hitting him again. "Stop it! You know why!"

She stopped hitting him. "You... Had a reason? I assumed it was revenge for keeping me hostage."

Kurt snorted. How like Rachel to think everything was about her. "No! He knows I'm Porcelain! The instant Blaine interviewed him he'd be singing like a canary and I don't really _feel _like going to jail today, so excuse me if I did something you don't agree with."

Rachel looked slightly guilty. "Sorry." she mumbled.

Kurt waved it away. "Never mind that, I need to tell you something."

They went into the living room and sank down onto the couch arm in arm, each with a coffee that after the events of that day, they both desperately needed.

Kurt took a deep breath. "You know the morning that I found out you and Jesse got back together?"

Rachel nodded, cautiously. "Yes, I found it slightly suspicious that you took the news so well."

"I didn't stay at Puck's that night," Kurt admitted and Rachel gasped.

"I knew it!" Kurt looked at her triumphant expression in amusement.

"No, you didn't," he said, holding back a grin.

"No I didn't," she agreed. "But, I suspected!" Kurt snickered.

"Anyway, I actually..." he took a deep breath and said it quickly and quietly. "HadaonenightstandwithDetectiveAndersonpleasedon't killmeforlyingtoyouIonlyjustremembereditwashim."

Rachel looked at Kurt in complete bewilderment.

"What?" Kurt sighed.

"I had a one night stand." Rachel gasped.

"Kurt Hummel I expected better of you!" She chided and then leant in. "So, how was it?"

Kurt laughed once, humorlessly. "That's not all of it Rachel,"

She crinkled her nose. "Oh,"

"I didn't have a clue who it was that I slept with... Until today." He muttered and winced when Rachel slapped him.

"We were safe, calm down!" He exclaimed.

"How can you be sure, Kurt?" She said dramatically and he huffed.

"I saw the condom in the bin, Rach. I'm kind of _meant _to be observant it's part of the job description." Rachel looked abashed.

"Oh. Sorry. Carry on," She allowed. "Who was it? Ooh, it was Puck wasn't it!"

Kurt spluttered and looked at her expectant face in shock. "Wha-No! No it wasn't _Puck_! God Rachel, that's disgusting." He took a deep breath. "No, it was... Blaine. I slept with Blaine." He braced himself for the explosion.

"What? Blaine?! Kurt!" She exclaimed, looking panicked. "Does he _know-?_" Kurt snorted.

"_No_, he doesn't _know._ I only just remembered today! He still thinks I'm straight."

"I still don't really understand why you think that Blaine will realise you're Porcelain if he knows you're gay. It just doesn't make sense." Kurt rolled his eyes. That was the third time she'd had him explain it to her.

"Whenever I see him and talk to him as Porcelain I'm always very.. sexual. You know, I hit on him and stuff. I mean today on the roof I _kissed-_" He winced. He hadn't meant to say that.

"You _kissed _him?" Rachel squealed and Kurt pushed her face away from his ear with one hand, scrunching his eyebrows in pain as her high pitched whine cut through his skull.

"Shut up Rachel! Yes, I kissed him. Okay? God," Kurt look annoyed and Rachel restrained herself.

"Was he good?" She wiggled her eyebrows and Kurt shot her a disgusted look, blushing a little because yes, Blaine was _very_ good but there was no way in hell he'd be telling Rachel that any time soon. He'd never been one to kiss and tell. Metaphorically speaking of course, considering he had actually literally just done that.

"_Anyway," _Kurt ignored Rachel's immaturity. "If Blaine knows I'm gay he'll definitely make a connection between me and Porcelain. Especially after today," He thought back to the way he'd kissed him on the roof. Yes, if Blaine found out it was Kurt who slept with him and that he was gay, then he'd realise how similar the way Blaine had kissed Kurt that night and the way Porcelain kissed him on the roof, incredibly easily. That would ruin everything.

"_Okay_," Rachel drawled. "So why did you decide to tell me this now?" Kurt sighed.

"I might need your help later on."

"What kind of help?"

"I need to convince Blaine that I'm _definitely _straight, right? So," Kurt took a deep breath and continued. "I figured that the best way to do that would be if I set him up on a double date. You'd go with me and..." Kurt continued bravely. "I'd set Blaine up with Finn."

"Kurt!" Rachel looked distressed. "You know I can't be in the same room as your brother!"

Kurt winced. "Yes, I know he annoys you. You should stop rising to the bait though, seriously Rachel, it just entertains him further."

Finn and Kurt's parents had married in Kurt's junior year and when he'd befriended Rachel and Rachel had actually had the chance to talk to Finn instead of having a crush on him from afar, she'd taken an instant dislike to him and they argued _all the time. _Personally, Kurt thought it was just unresolved sexual tension but Rachel always hit him when he said that so he normally kept it to himself.

He had a bet running with Santana to see when they'd eventually succumb to the UST and fuck like rabbits. Santana said Winter but Kurt thought Fall. If it was neither they would make a new bet. They'd had that bet since Senior year of high school, despite not being as friendly as they were now.

Kurt had a feeling he'd win this year, Jesse St James or not two people couldn't hold out against UST for this long. Especially considering Finn would be moving to New York that year. News that Kurt hadn't yet broken to Rachel and he didn't think he would until seconds before Finn turned up on their doorstep for Thanksgiving.

"Please Rachel? Please?" Kurt asked, his eyes pleading.

"Oh, fine! Just... tell him to behave. Please." Kurt grinned.

"I will! Thanks Rachel, you're the best!"

"I know," Rachel smirked and then let out a yelp when Kurt started tickling her, in punishment for being far too cocky.

After about ten minutes of running around the apartment, Kurt with searching fingers and Rachel trying to protect her most ticklish areas, they collapsed back on the sofa.

"Things are going to get complicated," Rachel noted and Kurt hummed in agreement, Rachel tucked in to his side.

"Yes, they are." He bounced up, heading for the DVD cupboard. "In the mean time..." he found the film he was looking for and held it up in triumph. "Do you want to watch Moulin Rouge?" Rachel squealed and immediately went to the kitchen.

"I'll get the wine and popcorn," she called back to Kurt and Kurt grinned as he inserted the film.


	8. Chapter 08: Heist

_**IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE! PLEASE READ! (I suspect not many of you actually do read them, and normally they hold important information so yeah READ OR YOU'LL MISS OUT!)**_

* * *

**A/N: Okay! First of all, this is _not _me breaking the hiatus! It's just a brief lull in it :) I probably won't post again for another month or so, as it's taking me about that long to write each chapter (which sucks, but between revision and real life that's how long it will take for a while), and I'm only posting this now because... I have an idea for a prequel story for this fic once its over and I wanted to see if people would be interested!**

** I don't have an idea for a name yet _but _it will be documenting Blaine and Kurt's relationship _before _this fic, so the story of Porcelain and Detective Anderson! It shall be an expansion on the little flashbacks you guys will start to get of how they met as criminal and detective in this story, and I thought it might be fun to write about the heists Kurt has previously pulled _and _it will show you guys how Detective Anderson really _is_ Porcelain's equal in their game of cat and mouse :D **

**_So,_ enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think about the idea for the prequel!**

**And on with the show!**

* * *

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_The rest of the evening was spent crying and singing along to the emotional roller-coaster of a film, crying at Come What May and sobbing when Satine died. This was the aspect of his life that Kurt enjoyed the most. It wasn't the thrill of getting away with a heist, or toying with Blaine. It was the small things, having fun with his room mate and telling each other secrets._

**Chapter Eight: Heist**

_They stumbled into Blaine's apartment, Kurt banging his hip on the way in, making him grunt slightly in pain but otherwise not pay any attention._

_The other man started pulling away, concerned, but Kurt whined and held him in place, their lips meshing in a fierce battle._

_Kurt felt Blaine groping behind him for the door to the apartment, closing it and then instantly he had Kurt pressed up against it, Blaine's knee coming up to rest between Kurt's legs and he lifted him with muscles that had formed when he was in Police training._

_Kurt moaned at the pressure and in a second had his legs wrapped around Blaine's hips._

"_You know," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's lips, going back for more after a few seconds. "I'm not usually one," A kiss pressed at the crease of Kurt's jaw and instinctively he lifted his head to bare his neck. "For one night stands," Kurt shook his head, non verbally communicating that he wasn't either, gasping as Blaine worked his way down his neck._

_Kurt began to get louder and louder the further down Blaine progressed and then suddenly the sensations stopped. Kurt lifted his head from where he'd slammed it back against the door a while ago, to look down his body hazily at Blaine. His eyes grew wide when he saw Blaine looking at him questionably, holding up a white business card in confusion._

"_Kurt," Kurt reeled at the sound of his name. He'd never told Blaine that. "Why do you have one of Porcelain's calling cards in your pant pocket?" _

_Kurt's mind, for once, was completely devoid of excuses and he didn't say anything, unable to comprehend how things had progressed. _

_Suddenly he felt the smooth coolness of metal against his wrists and looked to see Blaine had him handcuffed. He abruptly found his feet on the ground when Blaine pulled himself away, then winced in pain as Blaine spun him and then shoved him head first into the door, his arms now around his back and he started as he realised what the position was reminiscent of._

_The moment his brain had made the connection they were no longer in Blaine's dark apartment. Now they were outside, Kurt being bent over Blaine's car. He could dimly hear Blaine read him his rights in his left ear and he started struggling, but the ground was soft like jelly and unsteady like that were at sea. "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," he heard distantly. "You are under arrest for-"-_

Kurt sat up in bed, his heart thumping and morning wood still slightly hard despite the direction his dream had taken a drastic turn in.

Of course that hadn't actually happened. The calling card finding, handcuffing and arresting at least. From what he could remember the rest was... Well, pretty accurate. He still had a faint bruise on his hip from where he'd hit it a couple days ago on Blaine's door knob – not an innuendo, he'd literally banged his hip really hard on the knob of Blaine's door to his apartment - and it stung slightly if he put pressure on it.

Kurt propped himself up against his headboard and ran his hand through his slightly damp hair, damp from the sweat the anxiety from his dream had induced. Anxiety and... Desire.

He reached across to the glass of water on his bed side table and took a big gulp, feeling far too hot despite the fact he was sleeping shirtless. Seeing that it was four o'clock in the morning he sighed and lay back down, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep but feeling he ought to try to get a few more hours.

Ever since realising he and Blaine had slept together he'd been waking up to either nightmares or dreams in which he relived the act. And that was only at night, during the day he started to get turned on at inappropriate times, just from watching Blaine move around.

For instance, getting a hard on at a morgue was _definitely _inappropriate and he still had no idea why Blaine even _had _to go to a morgue considering he was _meant _to be in the White Collar Crime department and that _shouldn't _involve looking at dead bodies. Kurt wouldn't be surprised if the NYPD just let him do whatever the heck he wanted because that's what it seemed Blaine did, from what he'd observed of them.

Kurt got out of bed at half past five, finally deciding that he wasn't going to be getting any more sleep and it was really kind of pointless to try.

He took a quick, cold, shower, brushed his teeth and took significantly longer than usual on his moisturising routine, trying to waste time. Reluctantly he got ready for the day. Once he was dressed he decided that another good way to kill time would be to cook a full, proper, English breakfast – despite not actually being English.

That took a total of forty five minutes, the food quick and easy to prepare. All he had to do then was watch it and that did little to keep his mind off of his current predicament.

Besides being on a constant state of desire beyond belief whenever around 'Detective Anderson' there was another problem Kurt was having with work, something he and Rachel both knew would come about the instant he accepted the NYPD's proposal.

He was bored. Incredibly bored. And _distracted_, which his boredom didn't help. At first the routine of work had been new and exciting. It had been Kurt's first proper job since he was sixteen. (By Kurt's definition, a 'proper job' meant a job that didn't rely on being able to twist your hips _just so _in order to avoid cutting off a red laser beam and setting off an alarm.)

However, it had been a week and a half since Kurt had pulled a heist or con of any kind. And working street cons, like pick pocketing and card swindling, had lost its charm after the first day of doing nothing but working street cons. Even though Kurt only had three more days of being restricted by a tracker he was pretty sure that he was going to be asked to carry on as a consultant after his two weeks were up. Whilst he'd be less restrained and wouldn't have to be as cautious, he'd still have to constantly look over his shoulder, something he wasn't looking forward to. Not to mention, he hadn't done anything as Porcelain since that night on the roof.

He missed it. He missed the rush of getting away with a con or heist and being able to flirt with Blaine freely, above the safety net of his anonymity and without being assaulted by flashbacks or the knowledge that he had to talk with him on a daily basis. Although Blaine hadn't a clue that Kurt was Porcelain, Kurt himself knew and that made things awkward, when they really shouldn't have been. If Kurt was honest with himself, he'd admit that he was worried that he was losing his touch.

He sighed, took the food off of the cooker before it burnt and then put together a plate for Rachel, sticking it in the bottom oven where it would stay warm and not burn. Writing a quick post it note for Rachel, telling her where her breakfast was, he left it on her door and ate quickly – the eggs, beans, bacon and mushrooms hard to swallow past his dry throat but quick to eat. Then he left.

He spent an hour or so in 'The Lima Bean', drinking coffee and people watching. When he got a text from Blaine, telling him to come into the station, he ordered two mint lattes to go and, after flagging a cab, arrived at work a fifteen minutes later.

He didn't know what was happening to him and he didn't like it.

* * *

Blaine glared accusingly at the flyer taped to his office door. He'd arrived at the station at a quarter to six after having a sleepless night and he'd yet to have a coffee. He'd came trudging in, half asleep, to be stopped abruptly by the colourful flyer on his door.

It advertised a Charity Ball being held at one of the most prestigious art galleries in New York. Blaine wasn't sure which Charity but he knew one thing for certain. He did _not _want to go that thing.

Each one of the main departments in the NYPD were required to send two representatives to every Charity Ball the NYPD were invited to. And every single time it fell to Blaine and whoever he dragged down with him, usually Artie, to go. He hated them (the charity balls, not Artie. He actually was rather fond of Artie, believe it or not).

When he was a kid his parents forced him to go to three balls every single year up until they learnt he was gay and kicked him out. They were rich, but in Ohio that wasn't really saying much, and so it was expected of them.

Therefore, dances weren't Blaine's idea of fun, in general.

He sighed, pulling the flyer off of his door with an audible _thwack _and then walked into his office, not surprised to see a message from Sue on the back of the flyer.

* * *

_You and Tickle-Me-Dough-Face are going to this thing Anderson. With each other, with different dates, I don't care. Just do it. – Sue_

* * *

Groaning in frustration Blaine clenched his hand into a fist. Sighing gustily through his nose he ran his hand through his hair and chucked the flyer onto his desk, where it glared accusingly at him. He glared back at it and in a moment of immaturity picked it up, shoved it into one of the drawers of his desk and slammed the drawer shut.

He sat back, grinning in satisfaction, despite the fact he was beginning to feel a bit silly. There he was, feeling triumphant over shutting a piece of paper away into a drawer. He lent forwards and began to bang his head on the desk in frustration and embarrassment, despite the fact no one had seen him in his momentary lapse of dapperness.

"I just felt an overwhelming sense of de ja vu." Came Kurt's voice from the doorway and Blaine froze. Every time he heard Kurt speak he always mistook him for a second to be-

"Blaine?" Kurt questioned from the doorway. "Are you okay?"

Without answering Blaine just shook his head, his hair dragging the papers on his desk with it and Kurt chuckled, Blaine starting at the sound.

* * *

"_Wow," the man said breathlessly, leaning against Blaine's naked chest. Blaine laughed and pressed a kiss to his temple._

"_My sentiments exactly," Blaine agreed and the man chuckled. It was the first time Blaine had heard the stranger laugh and, whilst it sent a pang of recognition through him, the sound of it sent shivers through his stomach, straight down to his spent member, making it begin to harden again. Blaine nipped the strangers ear._

"_You'd better be careful, or I'll push for round two," The man murmured, leaning his head to the side to give Blaine access to his neck. _

_Blaine hummed against the stranger's porcelain skin and the stranger broke away, giggling as the breath on his neck tickled him, the giggles turning into the same chuckles from before and Blaine's eyes darkened as the sound sent those shivers down through his stomach once again-_

* * *

Kurt chuckled again and Blaine looked up, his eyes widening. It sounded so familiar. So much like that of the man's that he had slept with a few days ago.

No. It couldn't be. Kurt wasn't gay. He wasn't. Just a coincidence.

_ Just like the tie? _Blaine's subconscious whispered in a corner far back in his mind.

Blaine resolutely ignored it but then he froze.

Kurt had come closer to perch on the edge of Blaine's desk, right by his head. Blaine shifted back abruptly, causing Kurt to snort. "Wow, Blaine. You're incredibly jumpy today," Kurt noted in amusement and Blaine shivered. He still wasn't used to the way Kurt said his name, he'd been calling him Anderson for so long that the novelty of the change hadn't worn off yet.

"Here," Kurt said, holding out a paper cup. "Your favourite," He assured, his eyes crinkling as he smirked and Blaine took it off of him. Oh yes. The challenge. He'd almost forgot.

A couple of days before, Kurt had brought Blaine a coffee because he could tell Blaine wasn't having a good day, claiming it was 'his favourite'. Blaine had said that it wasn't his favourite, even though it _was_ delicious and Kurt had seemed to take it as a personal offence.

_This must be Kurt's next attempt, _Blaine thought.

Blaine accepted the beverage, sitting up a little in his chair and took a sip of the coffee. The flavour of mint chocolate chip ice cream swept across his tongue, despite the fact that there wasn't any chocolate or ice cream in it and it was warm. Blaine gulped at the coffee thankfully. Kurt watched, his smile smug and when Blaine stopped drinking to breathe Kurt chimed in.

"I _said _it was your fav-"

"Don't get me wrong," Blaine interrupted, drawing Kurt up short. He licked his lips, catching more of the flavour on his tongue. "This _is _delicious," He didn't notice the way Kurt's eyes followed his tongues movement nor the way Kurt swallowed as he did, Blaine's eyes were concentrated on the coffee.

"However," Kurt started at that, looking up at Blaine's face. "It's _not _my favourite. Thanks, though," Blaine said gratefully, taking another long sip and then sighed again. "I really needed this."

Kurt mentally added Chocolate Mint Latte under Roasted Pumpkin Mocha on the list of drinks he'd tried so far that weren't right.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, you did seem a little... Distraught when I came in." He snickered, twisting on the desk to slide his legs up and side ways, resting one ankle on the other as he lent back on his elbow. Kurt was now practically _reclining_ on Blaine's desk and then it was Blaine's turn to swallow.

"What's wrong?" Kurt continued and Blaine tore his eyes from Kurt, reached forward to open the drawer he'd stuffed the stupid flyer into not five minutes before. He thrust it into Kurt's hands and Kurt's eyes roved from right to left as he read it.

"Okay..." Kurt said, not really understanding why a charity ball would provoke such a reaction from Blaine. Blaine noticed.

"Look at the back," he instructed in an empty voice, nursing his coffee. "Flip it," he added when Kurt didn't make a move to do what Blaine had told him to do.

Kurt looked at him sceptically but did so and read the note from Sue.

Then, he got it. And he laughed.

"Oh, Blaine," he said fondly. "You don't like Balls do you?" Blaine shook his head grumpily and Kurt laughed again.

"Well," Kurt continued. "I have to go too. Maybe it'll be fun," Kurt speculated and Blaine half heartedly agreed, noticing the spark in Kurt's eye and the mischievous grin on his lips, but dismissed it, knowing Kurt must have had a ton of coffee already and familiar with the way it increased his hyperactivity ten fold.

"Wait," Blaine said, taken aback slightly as he processed what Kurt had said properly. "Why do you have to go?"

Kurt snorted and turned the flyer around, pointing to Sue's message. "She calls me Tickle-Me-Dough-Face," he explained. "I'm still not really sure why."

Blaine pulled a face, "It's better than mine." He groused. "She calls me-"

"-Young Burt Reynolds. Or Other Gay," Kurt's eyes sparkled and Blaine gulped.

"I'm curious," Kurt announced, leaning his head back and rolling his shoulders, sighing as a loud _crack_ sounded once he had. Blaine couldn't stop staring at the throat exposed and he couldn't help but think about the throat of the man who he'd slept with a few days before and what he'd _done _to that throat-

"Who was the gay guy that was _so _gay that you got stuck with 'Other Gay?" Kurt continued and Blaine screwed up his nose, looking away from where he'd been staring at Kurt with a heated face, and Blaine tried to remember.

"Um... I think it was a man called Sandy Ryerson. I can't remember exactly what he did at the station, I think he may have been in charge of evidence, I don't really know. But he was incredibly camp, I'm fairly sure he was gay since the moment he met me he demanded I had lunch with him and kept finding excuses to touch me, like, on the shoulder and neck and stuff." He saw Kurt snicker and grimaced.

"Thanks for that Kurt, truly. You're such a kind friend, laughing at my past discomfort." he snarked and Kurt carried on snickering at Blaine's expense.

Blaine ignored him and carried on with his story. "So, yeah, he'd keep on hitting on me and then the next moment he'd be telling me about his 'long distance girlfriend' who lived in... God, I don't even remember I've not seen the guy in so long." Blaine glanced at Kurt. "I also didn't really care enough to ask," he added and Kurt snorted.

"I don't blame you," he said as he let his arm slide upwards to lean his head against it. Now Kurt actually _was _reclining across his desk. "The man sounds creepy."

"Anyway," Blaine said, loudly as he pointedly ignored Kurt's position on his desk. "One day we were eating lunch and Sue came up to me, like she does, to introduce herself and welcome me to the family," Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Her words not mine," Blaine assured and continued. "She greeted Sandy calling him, 'Old fat gay,', took one look at me and then allocated me the nickname 'Other gay,'. It was only a few weeks later that she gave me the second nickname of 'Young Burt Reynolds'." Blaine's face turned puzzled. "I still don't get that, how on earth am I anything like a Young Burt Reynolds?".

Kurt chuckled, "If you haven't realised by now you'll never see it. Besides, at least your nickname makes sense. Mines just completely random. I mean, Tickle-Me-Dough-Face?"

Blaine smiled and nodded, allowing it. "Yeah, I think she's going senile,"

"Or maybe she's just crazy?" Kurt suggested and Blaine laughed.

"Or there's that," He smiled then shook his head, standing up. "Come on then," Blaine said. "We've got to go and see forensics about the bonds from the Richardson case," Kurt nodded, hiding a smile at Blaine's attempt at sounding professional and in charge, when he knew that 'forensics' just meant they were going to see Emma.

* * *

"Hi boys!," Emma greeted as Blaine and Kurt walked in through the elevator. She noticed that since the first time they'd visited her, almost two weeks before, they seemed to have grown closer and more friendlier.

"Hi Em," Blaine replied, Kurt going one further to pull her into a hug, asking her about the wedding planning and the instantly going into squealing best friend mode, telling her ideas about what she could do and add to the wedding that would make it even better.

"So, what do you have for us?" Blaine said once the catching up had been done fully, still reeling from the change in Kurt's attitude. _What the _fuck _was that? _Blaine thought. _That is not how a straight guy reacts to wedding planning and even _camp _guys don't react like that. _

Emma, ignorant to the mental crisis Blaine was having, instantly started coming out with information on what the forensics team had found on the bonds.

"Good news, we were able to make out the prints but-" Blaine stopped listening at that point, still freaking out but knew that Kurt would pay attention for the both of him. _What the hell is going on? _He thought, _And why do I feel like I've been withheld some information?_

* * *

Kurt tried to suppress his excitement.

When he learnt, albeit via Blaine, that the NYPD were required to have representatives at a Charity Ball being held at one of the biggest and most prestigious art galleries in New York City, he was over joyed. It was perfect. He'd finally be able to get rid of that Dali forgery he'd had kicking about for days_ and _if his tracking records were consulted afterwards nothing would look out of place and his presence there wouldn't be thought of as suspicious.

Not to mention it would break the mind numbingly dull routine his life had gotten into.

He didn't even need to persuade, bribe or con Sue into assigning Blaine and him to be two of the representatives.

Although Puck _had_ had a ton of ideas when Kurt told him about it later, despite the fact Kurt didn't need them. One of which included a con that involved a vicar impersonation, something that they had done years before. (Don't ask. All you need to know is that Puck thought it was a_ great _idea at the time and as Kurt had already had nine shots of straight whiskey he hadn't exactly been in the best state of mind or countenance to disagree.)

Everything strenuous had been done for him.

_So, _Kurt thought, rubbing his hands in anticipation and glee, a_ll I need is a date._

* * *

Kurt wolf whistled when Santana turned up at his door, clad in a skin tight, floor length, red dress that complimented her Spanish skin tone perfectly. Even when considering it was backless and the slit stopped at the top of her right hip it was nearly conservative compared to other things Kurt had seen her wear.

The fashion enthusiast in him took in the dress and heels and was content. "Santana, you look like sin itself," he said in his art snob voice and Santana smirked slowly.

"Why Mr Hummel," she purred. "You flatter me. Although, I must say. You look absolutely _delectable._" Kurt laughed and she joined in. Though others might not understand why they found the flirting funny, it was quite obvious if you knew them. Kurt was gay and so was Santana, so the last thing they would be appraising was the others appearance.

No, Kurt was looking at the dress and marvelling how Santana fit herself_ and_ the number of weapons he knew she always kept on her person in such a tight outfit without any of them being visible and Santana was thinking along the same lines. Kurt offered her his arm and she tucked her hand into his elbow delicately, instantly to look at them you'd think them to be a snobby upper class trophy wife and businessman husband, a type that made up the majority of those who attended charity balls which was what they needed to be if they were to blend in.

They walked down to the street and Santana hailed a cab with such a sharp whistle that it rivalled those that Kurt produced and Kurt went through the plan once again in his head.

So far he had five steps.

1) Get inside the building

2) Mingle

3) Try not to jump Blaine

4) Dance with Santana for a few songs and then excuse himself, head to the bathroom and collect the fake Dali he had stored behind the cigarette dispenser.

5) Make the switch, go back to the party and keep up the act for a few more hours before taking his leave.

He knew his plan wasn't as elaborate as some thieves', but he had plenty of Plan B's, C's and D's to fall back on. Plus he had several escape routes planned. He liked keeping things simple but he also appreciated a good back up plan.

Santana didn't attempt to make conversation. She was there purely as Kurt's arm candy (and beard) and she was completely fine with that.

Their cab pulled up outside the gallery and Kurt handed the driver the money, telling him to keep the change. Kurt told his name to the man at the front desk and the uptight man nodded in recognition.

"Mr Hummel and plus one." He made a short bow to Santana, managing to tear his eyes away from her cleavage and legs long enough to do so, then told them to have a good evening.

When Kurt and Santana swept into the dance room, which was really just the exhibition hall with the largest floor space, Kurt instantly was on alert. He and Santana went through the motions, introducing themselves to the correct people, acting like a couple, all the while Kurt keeping one eye on the security camera's and security guards.

Kurt ticked off steps one and two off of his mental plan and faltered when he was making small talk with the elderly couple in front of him as he caught his first glance of Blaine.

Kurt may have thought Blaine looked great in his work clothes but he struggled to keep himself from openly drooling at the sight of Blaine in a fitted dress suit.

_Men who are straight do not leer at other men, _Kurt instructed himself, forcibly turning his back on Blaine who seemed to be searching the crowd for someone, and he let out a fake laugh at the portly snob of a man who stood in front of him with his wife, even as Santana did the same, fluttering her eyelashes at him prettily and essentially did everything required of the perfect inside woman.

Kurt heard the opening strains of a tango* and turned a polite smile on the elderly couple as the dance floor widened further towards where they were mingling on the edge.

"Excuse us, but I promised my date we would dance the first tango that we heard," he said charmingly. "She has Latin American blood and loves to take any opportunity she can to show it off." he added and the couple nodded, retracting a little in the way all upper class socialites had of doing the moment they found out someone wasn't completely American.

Kurt took Santana's right hand and lifted it, escorting her into the middle of the dance floor, with his hand tucked at the small of his back per ballroom dancing protocol, his posture straight and regal. He could feel prickles on the back of his neck, the sensation of being watched familiar, but he ignored it. He knew who it was anyway.

The twangs of a sitar started playing and he and Santana immediately became a blur of motion, dancing across the floor passionately and elegantly.

* * *

Blaine thought he had just caught sight of Kurt but then he heard the first few beats of a tango start up. His eyes kept on roving the room regardless and when he saw the throngs of couples on the dance space part for a beautiful woman in a red dress and a handsome lean figure in a fitted Tuxedo he knew he didn't have to search any longer.

Kurt looked amazing. His hair was styled perfectly, like usual, and his Tux was sleek, his elegant bone structure standing out even the more so for it. When he took the lead position for the tango Blaine noticed he had a dancers profile. Lean, with strong legs and muscled arms, but a small frame. It didn't occur to him that it might not be from dancing that Kurt had obtained those attributes, nor did it even cross his mind that those aspects were also prized and seen in all the best thieves, but it would later on.

The first beat of the fiery dance and the couples were off, Kurt and his date outshining the others. The couple moved expertly, like they had done this together many times before and when Blaine observed the dominating way Kurt's hand encircled his dates waist and how firmly she was pulled to his chest he couldn't stop a wave of jealousy and lust passing over him, the power of it astounding him.

The way Kurt and his dance partner glided across the floor jerked something in him and as he noted the fluid way Kurt's limbs moved he couldn't help think back on somebody else's dancing that had captivated him just as much, if not more so, than Kurt's did now.

* * *

_The man twirled around the pole, twisting and shimmering, weaving himself around it to the beat of the sensuous music that played in the strip club. _

_If Blaine didn't know any better he could have sworn the previously immaculate hair was familiar, even though it was now mused and slightly damp as the exertion the dancing took on his body showed by the thin sheen of sweat painting his skin and Blaine suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to taste it. This desire only increased when the dancing man's eyes suddenly locked onto his and didn't look away. Blaine couldn't make out the man's features, no matter how hard he tried they weren't clear, the perfume in the club overriding Blaine's senses and dulling them, making his head feel hazy._

_Blaine carried on watching him dance, eyes hooded with lust and his beer somehow disappearing in the space of a few minutes. He felt incredibly thirsty and so he ordered another and over a half hour managed to consume five, changing to shots when the beer didn't taste strong enough. Soon his mind fogged as the alcohol took affect. Blaine sagged down in his chair as the hypnotic movements of the beautiful man on the stage slowed and then stopped altogether, the stranger lowering himself off the stage using his arms and the exposed skin suddenly tensed and taut muscles emerged from under the dancers skin, the sight of which almost caused Blaine's brain to short circuit._

_The man accepted a towel offered to him by a man with a shaved head and an earring in his left ear, towelling down his face and ruffling his hair with it. Blaine saw him head over to the bar and without really paying attention what he was doing, only knowing that he had to talk to him, he followed.  
_

* * *

Blaine snapped out of it, and realised that the tango had came to an end. His eyes searched around for Kurt but to his disappointment he realised Kurt had once again been swallowed by the crowd. He resigned himself to sitting on the sidelines and trying to track down Kurt for the rest of the evening, and did just that – sitting at a table at the side of the room and picking up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

Little did he know, Kurt was no longer in the room. He was currently making his way to the men's bathrooms, pulling on leather gloves, hiding his face and working the camera angles and blind spots to his advantage as he did so. Santana was dancing with other men at the ball, ensuring more attention was fixed on her and not the disappearance of her dance partner, as jealous wives and dates muttered to each other eyeing her furiously.

Kurt reached a slim hand behind the cigarette dispenser, groping blindly, and within a few seconds had the corner of the forgery in his hand, wrapped in brown paper to ensure no damages. He sped down the hallway towards the Salvador Dali exhibit. No one was there, as everyone was at the Charity Ball. The doors to the exhibit were locked but that did nothing to stop Kurt, he picked it within seconds and then he was in.

It took less than a minute for the scrambler he had stored in his pocket to confuse the signal that had the canvas of the painting alarmed and he lifted it off of its hanger carefully.

The second it was off he unwrapped his forgery and then replaced the real with the fake. That done he reversed the settings of the scrambler by moving a few wires about and then the alarm was functioning again. With the canvas under an arm he walked out of the room, re-locked the door and made his way back to the male bathrooms.

The canvas was a flat one, not a box canvas, and was really just a scrap of parchment framed. He removed the frame carefully and then with small, quick movements of the wrist unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it hanging open and exposing his chest to the cold air of the bathroom.

His nipples hardened a little at the cold and he shivered before wrapping the picture in the brown paper he'd carried the forgery in with and then wrapped it around his torso, the paper grating against his peaked nipples uncomfortably.

He did up his shirt calmly and redid his tie, which had tightened a little too much when he was placing the canvas. He'd picked out one of his larger dress shirts, to ensure the canvas went unseen. Tucking in his shirt he adjusted the knot of his tie, looked in the mirror and then deemed himself presentable.

He'd been gone from the main hall for about ten minutes. Crossing off making the switch from his mental plan he made his way back to the dancing, locating Santana easily and danced with her for a few more songs, the slight sweat he worked up doing so not seeping through to the canvas to ruin the picture, which was why he'd brought the brown paper.

A quarter to midnight Santana made a show of rubbing her feet, saying louder than necessary that her feet were aching. Kurt cooed in sympathy, hovering over her as she sat down like he was expected to. She asked if they could go home and Kurt put up a slight resistance, 'giving in' after a few seconds.

It was then that Kurt had to do the tricky part of the heist. He took a deep breath and walked up to where Blaine had been observing him for most of the evening.

"Good evening Blaine," Kurt said and Blaine smiled, his eyes crinkling and a dimple showing in his left cheek.

"Evening Kurt," He peered at him over the rim of his drink and Kurt tried to act casual, like he _didn't _have a stolen Dali painting under his shirt. "Are you having a good time?"

"Yes," Kurt said, smiling easily, careful to keep eye contact with Blaine and to breathe evenly. "Unfortunately, my date has had enough of dancing. Her heels are tall and she says her feet hurt. I came over to ask if it was okay for us to leave a little early."

Kurt didn't notice but Blaine gritted his teeth. _Yeah, her feet hurt._ Blaine snorted. _More like you want to go fuck, _his jealousy and the alcohol he had consumed made it so he didn't notice the shift gleam in Kurt's eyes or the way he held himself, stiffly due to the Dali under his shirt.

Blaine smiled easily, not realising it was more of a gritting of teeth than anything.

"Yeah, sure." He waved Kurt away. "See you!"

Kurt smiled. "Bye." He walked back to Santana and they left, hailing down a cab and making their way back to Kurt's apartment.

The moment they were inside Kurt unbuttoned his shirt and took out the Dali, shaking it out and unwrapping it. It was perfect, completely undamaged.

"Damn Porcelain," Santana said, watching as Kurt re-framed the Dali and hung it on his wall. He slipped his shirt off completely and turned to her. "That was smooth," she continued and Kurt grinned. Santana had never seen him work before.

"Well, it _is _my job," he said and settled down on the sofa to admire where the Dali hung next to the television.

Santana seemed to realise something. "Porcelain," she said and he turned to her. "What are you going to do with it?" Kurt smiled, leaning back in satisfaction.

"Give it to Rachel for her birthday," he said. "I can't sell it on the black market as they don't know that it's been stolen and they'll think it's a fake. Besides, Salvador Dali is her favourite artist."

Santana eyed Kurt. "You left a calling card, didn't you?" she said, seeing how he tried to avoid looking at her.

He smiled sheepishly. "Maybe," he said and then a few seconds later, "Ow, shit, Santana!"

He held his cheek, where she had slapped him.

"God dammit Hummel," Santana snapped. "You don't take risks in this gig, you know that! Fuck, Kurt, do you miss being in the spotlight so much that-"

Kurt sighed and stopped rubbing his face in order to interrupt Santana's tirade. "No," he said, "I don't_ miss the spotlight. _And I didn't take a risk. I never take risks, Santana," He looked at her seriously and she stared back, not intimidated despite the fact she always got a bit edgy whenever Kurt was serious and the killer he used to be shone through to the surface.

"I weigh the risks and benefits of every decision I make, Satan." he continued. "I know what I'm doing." Santana didn't show it, but she was reassured.

"Good," she said, sprawling out on the arm chair opposite Kurt's sofa in just her underwear, having slipped out of her dress considering Kurt most definitely wouldn't be interested in anything she had going on. "'Cause if you're caught I won'-"

"You won't bust me out of jail," Kurt finished, smiling slightly. "I know, Satan."

"Damn straight,"

* * *

Kurt was woken up twice. Once to Rachel giggling, kissing sounds, low moans and a muffled curse in a deep voice. _Stupid Jesse _Kurt had thought at the time and then rolled over to go back to sleep. The second time was to his phone.

Without even having to look at the caller ID he knew who it was.

"Blaine," he acknowledged, his voice hoarse and rough from sleep.

"K-Kurt," Blaine coughed and cleared his throat as it gave out in the middle of him speaking. Kurt heard him swallow on the other end.

"Kurt," Blaine tried again and it came out normally.

"So, what's up?" Kurt asked, "I doubt this is a social call,"

Blaine coughed again. "Yes, you're right it's not," Kurt could then hear the excitement in Blaine's voice and smiled.

Seemed like the detective had found his little note.

"Porcelain robbed the art gallery that the charity was held at last night. I found a calling card there,"

"Oh! Huh, that's odd," Kurt held in a snicker. "What did it say?"

"What did what say?" Kurt narrowed his eyes. Was... Was Blaine trying to stall?

"The calling card," Kurt answered, "What else?"

"Just- You can see it when you come into the station,"

"Okay, Blaine." Kurt was incredibly amused. Blaine. Trying to stall. Ha.

"Did you enjoy the ball? I know you weren't looking forward to it at all,"

"It wasn't... completely horrendous." Kurt smiled. "I saw you and your date dancing," Blaine added and Kurt's smile turned into a smirk. "You made a handsome couple" Blaine seemed to be stealing himself for something. "You were excellent dancing together, you must have known each other for years," Blaine said in a rush and Kurt nearly cooed at how adorable jealous Blaine was being as he tried to not sound jealous. At least, he thought Blaine was jealous.

"Oh, yes, since high school. We've been in a number of tight spots together, so we've grown very close over the years," He could just see Blaine nodding politely on the other end. "What about you?" Kurt asked. "Did you bring a date to the ball?"

"No," Blaine said shortly. "I went alone," 

"That's a shame." Kurt said, "I imagine you're an excellent dancer,"

"..."

"See you in an hour Blaine," Kurt said gently and snapped his phone shut, leaning back into his pillows to muffle his laughter.

He didn't exactly _need _to see the calling card. He knew what it said, he'd written it. But the fact that Blaine hadn't wanted to tell him over the phone... Well... That said a lot. He could remember what he'd written word for word.

_Why, hello Detective. My, you're looking well. Have you been working out? My hair? Why thank you, I went to a new hairdressers. We haven't talked in a long time, Cupcake. Why... I find myself missing you. But I doubt you have the time of day for **me **any more**.** A little birdie told me you have a thing with that Karl fellow that you told me so much about during our little excursion on the roof._

_I don't blame you Blainey. That's a fine piece of ass. Not as fine as yours of course..._

_How's my brush work? Did I capture Dali's surrealism perfectly? _

_I'll see you soon, catch me if you can._

_~Porcelain~_

He admitted it was the most giggling school girl he'd ever gotten when leaving notes for the detective, but he was trying to be as different as possible to how he was around Blaine as Kurt. After all, it couldn't hurt.

* * *

Rachel rolled over, waking up slowly. She felt out with a hand and it met with a warm body, she pulled herself closer to it. She opened her eyes to look over his features and then cursed as she remembered what had happened the night before.

"Shit, shit, shit." She muttered, pulling away. "Not again,"

She pulled the sheet off of the handsome man in her bed and wrapped it around her naked body. He muttered, curling in to himself at the sudden draft and she poked him.

"Get up," she hissed. "Quick, you need to get out before Kurt finds you,"

He opened his brown eyes blearily and grinned dopily, reaching for her waist and his large hands wrapped around it easily. "Shh, babe." He muttered, shutting his eyes and tugging her next to him, tucking her into his side as she resisted. "Go back to sleep,"

She snapped and sat up, poking his shoulder roughly.

"I have a _boyfriend_!" She hissed and he opened an eye in confusion.

"Who?" He asked, stupidly. Then his eyebrows furrowed and his expression soured. "Not St James again?" Rachel's silence spoke for her. "Rachel, are you stupid?!" He exclaimed, sitting up too, now more awake. "He broke your _heart-_"

Rachel interuppted him. "Quite frankly _Finn_," she snapped, emphasising his name to let him know that he was the last person on earth she would talk to this about. "It is none of your business. We shouldn't have done this again. We _can't _do this again and we _won't _do it again."

Finn sighed and stood up, bending over to pull on his boxers and the rest of his clothes. "We're adults now Rachel, why won't you just act like one?" he muttered and Rachel crossed her arms.

"Yes, well," she spluttered. "Just leave," she gestured to the window that opened up into the fire escape.

Finn looked at her for a moment before pressing a hard kiss to her lips briefly, pulling away as she stood there in shock. He turned away and climbed through the window. "See you Rachel," He muttered and then Rachel was alone.

"Shit," she muttered, dragging her hands through her hair and sunk down on the bed, her throat closing up as her eyes started burning, tears making their way to the surface and spilling over to run down her face. Silently, she cried..

_I need to stop doing this to myself, _she thought, unwrapping the sheet from herself and pulling on shorts and a tank top, curling back under her cover and tried to get back to sleep. She could still smell Finn on her sheets.

* * *

**A/N: Oh yeah, has anyone caught the _Chocolat _references in this chapter and last chapter? I was slightly disappointed when no body called me out on it :D**

***The music for the tango; go to youtube and type /watch?v=1jkkkQUmTIw into the the url :)**


	9. A quick Authors note :) please read

**A/N: Hi! Just a quite authors note. I set about editing and revamping the earlier chapters of A Game of Cat and Mouse today, taking a break from revising and writing chapter ten :) So, if you wanted to go back and read them while you wait for a new chapter, you can :D The chapters I edited and revamped are chapters 1 to 4. Some might sound extremely familiar but I improved them a lot, especially chapter 1 that's completely new :3 There'll still be a long wait for the next chapter, sorry! 3 **


	10. Chapter 09: Inside Man

**A/N: Because I love you guys so, _so_ much, I've been working my butt off to write as much as I can during the half term as there's been no school or exams, which has paid off! I'm currently writing chapter fourteen so there'll be chapters up weekly pretty soon! **

**I've loved reading all of the reviews you amazing people have been writing and can't wait for you to read all of the other chapters and get your awesome feedback! (However, as this is a story there does need to be some semblance of order and that's where the update once a week thing comes in, sorry!). **

**I've got the whole story planned and only need to write it so don't be worried about whether or not it will be finished, I've got an epilogue planned already!**

**Also, if you guys want to try your hands at writing a new synopsis of this story go ahead! I think I want to change it but don't know what to put!**

**Okay, I'm going to shut up now. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

**Edit:  
A/N: Sorry to the people who haven't been able to review, and for getting an extra email telling you this was updated! It's because I deleted the authors note and replaced it with this weeks chapter, sorry guys that ones my fault! I've fixed it now, so no worries! Review your little hearts away! Thank you to Sofia Michelle the best most beautiful reviewer ever for helping me realise the situation! I love you! **

**Okay, sorry! Read the chapter if you haven't yet read it!**

* * *

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

I need to stop doing this to myself_, she thought, unwrapping the sheet from herself and pulling on shorts and a tank top, curling back under her cover and tried to get back to sleep. She could still smell Finn on her sheets. _

**Chapter Nine: Inside Man**

Blaine looked at Kurt, watching him as he flitted around his office adding ornaments and colourful curtains that Blaine knew were in season – after all he _was _gay, while not a requirement nor the rule most gay men knew at least a little about fashion. Which just begged the question, how on earth did Kurt know about fashion? Sure straight guys work in fashion all the time, but still...

For that matter, what on earth was what happened a couple days ago, in forensics?

Kurt and Emma had been talking a mile a minute about Emma's wedding plans and if Blaine didn't know any better... Well.

Blaine took a deep breath, summoning his courage.

"Kurt," Blaine spoke up. "Are you-"

"Hush, Blaine," Kurt said, without even looking. "I'm going to transform your office whether you like it or not, there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Blaine looked at Kurt in slight amusement. "... Okay." He replied, settling back down in his chair.

He found it incredibly funny that Kurt just assumed what it was he was going to say, and that what he was going to say would be in protest at Kurt redesigning his office.

And that was the reason he wasn't going to follow through on his question. Not because he was scared about what the answer would be.

At least that's what Blaine told himself.

In fact it was a couple of hours later before Blaine had time to go back on that train of thought and explore it further. It was lunch time and Kurt had gone on ahead to queue up for food in the cafeteria, Blaine going in the opposite direction to pick Emma up.

Emma looked up, startled, when Blaine knocked on the door. "Hey Emma," he greeted and Emma smiled prettily.

"Oh, hi Blaine," she started peeling off the white plastic gloves she wore constantly at work. "Let me just pack up, I'll be with you in a moment."

Blaine waited patiently and in mere minutes they were off, walking down the corridors to the cafeteria, which was about a three minute walk away. They talked about random nonsense for a little bit before Blaine managed to find an opening in which to ask his question.

"Emma. About Kurt. Is he-?"

"Gay?" She looked at him, turning her head to the side minutely and then looked away again. The detective in Blaine instantly told him that it was one of the most obvious signs of avoiding a question when interrogating a suspect.

_Except, _Blaine reminded himself, _Emma's not a suspect. Seriously, dude, this is messing with your head. This is not an investigation. Calm the fuck down._

Passing the men bathrooms into another corridor, just a minute or so away from the cafeteria, they carried on walking.

"It's not really my place to tell you, Blaine. You need to ask _him _if you want to know,"

Blaine's hope sunk a little, even as his curiosity rose.

Whilst he knew that Emma was a nice person, and respected peoples wishes, _especially_ if that person was a friend, it was a little strange she didn't have anything else to say on the matter, and that she refused to tell Blaine – which was odd because she and Blaine were incredibly close.

_Although,_ Blaine mused, _it may be the inner counsellor in her, the confidential aspect of the job anyway. _He did the mental equivalent of shaking his head in amused irritation. _She would be so great as the grief counsellor for the NYPD. I know how much she hates the mess of forensics and she's a natural at getting people to open up and feel better. If only she'd admit it!_

"I was afraid you were going to say that," he responded and Emma laughed at him, knowing full well that even if he'd expected her not to say anything he had still hoped.

They turned the corner, going on to talk about different things. Neither of them realised they'd been overheard by the man coming out of the bathroom moments after they'd passed it – which wasn't much of a surprise, being quiet was crucial to what he did for a living.

* * *

Kurt cursed, waiting for the voices of Emma and Blaine to fade as they got further away before carrying on down the corridor.

It seemed the detective was starting to piece things together.

When he got to the cafeteria and saw Emma at their normal table and Blaine in the line for food, he made a beeline for Blaine – albeit against his better judgement - joining him where he was in the line.

"Blaine." The employees behind Kurt muttered in annoyance as he walked past them, but considering who Blaine was they didn't push it. He_ was_ the head detective of one of the NYPD's most well known departments after all and well liked enough that holding a place in the line in the cafeteria for a friend didn't ruffle that many feathers.

"Oh! Hey Kurt!" Blaine shifted over to let Kurt stand next to him in the queue. "Where were you? I thought you were trying to get here early?" They queue inched forwards and they did the same.

"Oh, yeah. I was. But I also... kind of desperately needed the toilet," Kurt admitted, telling the truth but omitting that he had heard Blaine and Emma's conversation. Thankfully, as Kurt had dawdled a little on the way to the cafeteria, he'd been gone too long for Blaine to worry that he'd heard that he and Emma were essentially_ gossiping _about him.

Blaine laughed. "Why didn't you just say that?" Kurt shrugged and they inched closer to the counter.

"I don't know, I guess I try to appear-"

"Immaculate? Not needing human functions to survive?" Kurt glanced over at Blaine and rolled his eyes as Blaine smiled, his dimples showing as he teased his friend.

"Shut up," he nudged Blaine with his elbow. "And no. I don't know. I guess." Kurt took a deep breath and in a jumble of words continued. "You see cop shows on the T.V and, because its a show, no one ever goes to the toilet-" Kurt's explanation, that was a little true – he'd been trying not to draw attention to himself- was drowned out by Blaine's laughter.

"Shut_ up_," Kurt said again, but smiling despite himself, aware how ridiculous his reason sounded.

Blaine finally managed to stop laughing and shook his head in mock despair at Kurt.

"Kurt, you realise T.V isn't real life, right? I go to the toilet all the time." Kurt groaned as the detective's voice once again took on a teasing lilt. "Heck, I bet even Sue Sylvester goes to the toilet once in a while,"

Kurt snorted, despite his slight embarrassment. "More like once a _year,_"

"Once a _decade,_" Blaine added and the grin on his face caused Kurt to start laughing, even as they approached the front counter and picked out their food.

"Once a _century_," They paid and turned to get cutlery before moving to join Emma at their table.

"One a millennia_,_" Blaine raised an eyebrow in challenge, and Kurt tried to come up with a retort.

"Uh, once a light-year?" Blaine looked at him incredulously and Kurt sighed, the sound admitting his defeat for him.

Blaine grinned in triumph and Kurt shook his head a little in reluctant amusement. When Blaine won something he always perked up and Kurt couldn't help but picture a puppy who'd managed to earn a treat.

Then he remembered why he'd gone to Blaine in the queue, other than for food. He needed to talk to him, away from Emma who'd likely get confused if she over heard and ruin his plan completely.

Blaine selected a knife and fork for his food and they moved on, Kurt readied himself and blurted out his question.

"Hey Blaine, how'd you feel about going on a double date with me?"

Blaine looked over at him in shock. "_With_ you?"

"Yeah! Me and Rachel." He pretended he didn't notice Blaine's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "We've been room mates for years, and I've" Kurt gulped, grateful he was such a good actor as he forced the next part of the lie through gritted teeth. "always had a crush on her. She finally agreed to go on a date with me, but only if it wasn't just us two alone. She thought it might be a bit awkward if it were."

Blaine's look of confusion hadn't vanished yet he somehow managed to come up with a response.

"I find that odd, I got the impression when we met," they both tried not to remember the night on the roof, both for different (but rather similar) reasons. "That she was rather outgoing and confident."

Kurt snorted."Oh, she is believe me," Catching Blaine's confusion he elaborated, lying smoothly.

"It's just that she's known me for so long... She thought the transition might be awkward. You know, from friend to," once again Kurt wined minutely, uncomfortable saying the word that he associated being with another man and not a woman, _certainly _not Rachel. "Boyfriend,"

"Huh. Well, uh, sure I guess," Blaine looked as uncomfortable as Kurt felt. "Oh, uh, I don't really have anyone-"

Kurt interrupted him, grateful and not wanting Blaine to find a way to duck out, but still wincing at the awkwardness of the situation.

_It has to be done, _he told himself,_ He's getting too close to making a connection, this is necessary._

"Oh, don't worry about that," he laughed, waving Blaine's worries away breezily, expertly weaving his web of lies and smooth talk together to convince the sceptical detective."I know someone who I think will be perfect for you," Blaine looked sceptical. "His name's Finn," he added, not helping with Blaine's look of distrust - _but not increasing it either_ Kurt told himself, _so that's a plus._

Kurt tried not to think on how awkward and surreal the situation was and instead asked once again, if Blaine would go.

"Uh, yeah. Like I said before, sure," Blaine's confusion seemed to be the reason for the easy acceptance and Kurt was glad. They'd unknowingly been standing in the middle of the cafeteria while they were talking. Just realising it, they noticed all the people shooting them annoyed looks as they walked around them to get a seat.

"Oh," Kurt said in realisation, allowing his hand to be grabbed by Blaine's and to be tugged along to their table, looking over his shoulder to call. "Sorry," behind him as they sank down in the chairs Emma, and Will (who must have turned up when they were talking), had saved for them.

Blaine's hand detached from his the moment they sat down, Kurt frowned as the heat it provided disappeared and only the aftershocks of his touch, running up his arm like sparks, remained.

The feeling triggered a memory and he breathed evenly, but slowly, in an attempt at ignoring it and ensuring there was no visible reaction from him.

* * *

_-Blaine's hand wrapped around his as he pulled him into the elevator of his building, drunken kisses pressed to each others lips, necks, faces anywhere and everywhere they could reach, their joint hands leant above their heads on the side of the elevator, blood rushing down from their wrists to their shoulders. Sparks sprouting from every where their skin touched. The elevator pinging as they reached Blaine's floor, being tugged by Blaine into his apartment,the blood rushing back as their joint hands lowered -_

* * *

He'd gotten pretty good at keeping his face blank and free from any reaction during the flashbacks, they'd been happening so often lately.

And he had no doubt that Blaine still had absolutely no idea that it was him he'd slept with, because Blaine had had at least as much to drink as he did and in his memories, even though he _knew_ now that it was Blaine, the face of the man he'd had his drunken interlude with was still fuzzy because of all of the alcohol he'd consumed – although it had cleared a little and was more obviously Blaine now he knew the identity of the guy in his memories.

"What were you guys talking about over there?" Emma asked, her mouth full but her hand held in front of her mouth politely.

Blaine didn't look like he was about to tell them about the date any time soon, probably because he was still in slight shock, so Kurt answered for him.

"I was just explaining why you guys got here before me, and then somehow," he frowned slightly here, partly for show and partly because _god, _he and Blaine did have some weird conversations sometimes, didn't they? "We ended up speculating how often Sue Sylvester goes to the toilet." he shrugged, popping one of the grapes from the small pot he'd brought at the counter into his mouth, and bit lightly, the skin breaking and the liquid spilling into his mouth.

"What about you guys," Kurt carried on once his mouth was no longer full, "What were you two love birds up to over here, all on your lonesome?" The tone in his voice made the question teasing and Emma blushed while Will laughed.

"Nothing as interesting as _your _conversation," Kurt snorted. "We were talking about Emma's parents. They're her only family and we would love them to come to the wedding, but they're not very... nice," Kurt looked at Emma and Will in concern, opening the wrapper on his cheese salad baguette.

"Why? What are they like?"

That question incited a bit of a rant from Will, which got increasingly louder – not that you'd notice in the din of the cafeteria.

Despite they were now all adults some things never change - about how they were constantly demeaning Emma and trying to get Will to change his mind on marrying her.

"That's horrible," Kurt said, aghast. "Parents are meant to love their kids." He'd really lucked out with Carol and his dad. He knew they'd never do anything like that when_ he _got married.

After that conversation kind of stalled and then Emma turned to Blaine, who wasn't really paying attention to them, in an attempt at starting another one up.

"Blaine, you've been very quiet," Emma noted, swallowing a bite of her daily PB&J sandwich. "Is anything the matter?"

Blaine seemed to shake himself, looking up from where he was simply staring at the cafeteria lasagne that he'd decided to take a risk on buying – cafeteria food was still terrible, that had also stayed the same since high school – and was sluggish in his reply.

"I don't know... Just thinking I guess." He shook his head again, "Sorry. Anyway, what was it you were saying about Mr and Mrs Pillsbury, Will? Maybe I can help, I am your best man after all,"

Emma and Will exchanged a look, while Kurt looked at Blaine in slight surprise. Blaine was Will's best man? They were closer friends than he thought.

"Thanks for the offer Blaine, but I think this is something Emma and I need to sort out for ourselves."

Blaine nodded, running his hand over his face, tired, and stood up, taking his food with him. Kurt stood too, looking at him in concern.

"Are you okay Blaine?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, just a bit of a headache that's all." He glanced over at Emma and Will who were looking on in interest. "Kurt, I think we can call it a day. We don't really have any leads on our current case and I really don't feel too hot right now."

Kurt nodded. "Of course. I'll text you the details once I've talked to Rachel and Finn, okay?"

"That sounds fine. See you tomorrow. Bye Will, Emma."

Will and Emma called a goodbye at Blaine's back and then went back to discussing wedding plans. Kurt stayed for a few more minutes before leaving too, heading home, grateful that he already had Rachel on board with the idea of a double date.

Or... so he thought.

* * *

"Rachel," Kurt whined, poking her on the shoulder. "You promised!"

Rachel, determined not to give in, pulled away and turned from him slightly.

"I don't care," she said. "I refuse to be in the same room as him,"

"But I need you-"

"Find someone else. Ask Santana,"

"Rachel, Santana has a life _outside_ of New York you know. And I already kept her back longer than she planned when I asked her to go to the Ball with me-"

"I have a life too, Kurt! And I'm not doing it, so find some one else."

"...We'll discuss this again later," Rachel ignored the disgruntled expression on Kurt's face and reminded herself that she had helped him so many times in the past that she deserved one free pass.

Besides, she _did_ have a boyfriend... Even if he wasn't around much. Even if the moment Finn had discovered she and Jesse were going out again and she got his reaction (provoking much satisfaction but she'd never admit that), her feelings towards Jesse had practically disappeared.

_Despite _all of that she stillhad a boyfriend.

She and Kurt turned back to carry on watching their favourite T.V show, a guilty pleasure of theirs.

Not many people liked Dr Sexy M.D but the two friends did, even if they didn't take it all that seriously.

Dr Sexy had just been slapped by one of his _many _love interests on the show and Kurt hissed in sympathy, it had sounded painful. Rachel tried to get back into the show.

She saw Kurt was wrapped up in the plot so she discreetly checked her cell phone, for the fifth time that evening. Nothing. Still nothing.

She sighed quietly and locked the screen.

She'd not heard from Jesse in _days _and he only ever seemed to be around when Kurt was, which annoyed both Kurt and herself extremely. She loved Kurt, of course she did, but she'd like to spend alone time with her boyfriend every once in a while, that wasn't really asking much in her opinion.

And Kurt was annoyed at Jesse being around whenever he was because he hated Jesse, even though he was putting up with him for Rachel's benefit, for which she was grateful, he still didn't trust him.

She turned to Kurt with another sigh.

"Kurt,"

All she got in response was a distracted grunt as Kurt was absorbed in watching Dr Sexy give a patient a much needed heart transplant. With an irritated sigh she pointed the T.V remote and muted the show.

He turned to her immediately.

"Hey!" he said in annoyance and she ignored it.

"Kurt, do you _really _need me to do this for you?"

Kurt looked at her, studying her as if it was a trick question, before sighing and slumping down even lower into the sofa, a feat in itself considering his back was practically flush with the seat of the sofa and his legs were bent at the knees (which he had his arms wrapped around).

He sat like that whenever watching Dr Sexy M.D, because despite how ludicrous the scenarios often were – c'mon, a _heart _transplant?- it was addictive and you were sucked in easily.

"Yes," he said bitterly, not a surprise considering how much Rachel knew that Kurt didn't like having to rely on people. "I already asked Blaine, considering you_ had _said yes before you decided to diva your way out of it, and he said he'd come."

Rachel took in a deep breath. Yes, she'd agreed to do it before, but that was _before _she'd slept with Finn. Again. But, Kurt needed her. She'd swallow her pride for him.

"Alright," she said. "I'll do it,"

The speed of which Kurt sat up and the size of his grin was enough to know she'd said the right thing and he was no longer going to sulk.

"However," she continued. "I need you to do something for me."

Kurt frowned. "...Okay." he allowed. "What?"

"I need you to break into Jesse's apartment," Kurt's breath caught in his throat but Rachel didn't notice. "I think he's hiding something from me."

"What brought this on?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow and when Rachel answered it was bitterly.

"He only comes around when he knows _you're _going to be in the apartment. Besides, he's been acting really suspiciously and... I don't know, I think he might be using me,"she admitted and when Kurt wasn't surprised and didn't try to deny it she knew that he had known this already.

"Alright," she sighed. "What's this all about?"

Kurt hesitated but her glare prompted him to answer. "He has my prints," he said and she gaped.  
"And" he continued. "if he hands them into the NYPD they'll admit them into evidence as the prints of Porcelain. And as they'll match mine, they'll know. Or at least they'll get suspicious."

"Which is why you didn't tell me," Rachel concluded and he nodded. "Do you have anything on him or is he keeping them as leverage?"

"Oh no, I've got something on him too. And the right motive and imagination in which to use it. He knows that. However, he has something that can be even more incriminating, and he knows that too. The only reason he's not acted on it yet is because of Puck and because he knows that if he does I'll have someone else leak out what I have to the paps."

"Then you need to steal them," she said and he nodded.

"I know,"

Rachel sighed, letting her head roll back to rest on the back of the sofa dramatically. "So, I guess he was just using me again. And like an idiot I bought it." Kurt winced in sympathy and rolled over from where he was sitting to rest his head on her shoulder.

"Sorry, hon." She sighed again.

"Oh well. At least I know this time." her eyes sparkled as something occurred to her. "_And _he doesn't know that I know,"

Kurt snorted. "I would hope not, else there's nothing stopping him giving the NYPD my prints."

"What should I do? Do you want me to... break up with him? Stay with him? What?"

Kurt groaned, "Oh, god, Rachel I don't know. Uh... Stay with him for now, I guess."

"Okay," Rachel reached once again for the remote and before pressing the button to turn the volume of the television back up said, "Tell me the details when you've arranged it with Blaine. And you can deal with Finn, I don't want to talk to him any more than I have to."

Another groan from Kurt and he started protesting immediately, the renewed sounds of Dr Sexy drowning him out.

* * *

The conversation with Finn went much the same way the one with Rachel did.

He protested.

"_But Kurt, why do _I _have to pretend to be gay? You actually are gay why don't you date the dude?"._

"_... Shut up, Finn." _

He tried to make deals.

_"I'll, I don't know, I'll do your homework for a month?"_

"_Finn, we're not in school any more, I don't get homework for you to do."_

And then he, eventually and very reluctantly, agreed to do it.

"_You're _sure _Rachel agreed to this Kurt? I mean, I won't get in trouble or-"_

"_Yes, Finn. For the thousandth time, Rachel said its okay."_

"_Oh... Okay. Fine," a groan. "I'm going to live to regret this, aren't I?"_

The next day Kurt arranged it with Blaine for them to go out that Friday night, the day his tracking bracelet came off, to the New York chain of Bread-sticks_, _which was marginally better than the Ohio chain.

All too soon it was the day of the date, the days coming up to it slightly awkward but going fast all the same.

It was coming up to the time of their reservation and Kurt had been standing in front of his bedroom mirror for about a half hour, fiddling with his tie, pulling at it and redoing it nervously. His fingers were brushed away by Rachel's and he sighed in relief, turning sideways so she could get at it.

"Thanks Rachel," he said, smiling at her weakly. Rachel nodded, eyes and face calm as she quickly and efficiently redid his tie for him.

"No problem, Kurt," she said, her face pure concentration as she looped and tugged at the fabric. "I used to do this for my dads all the time back in Lima." she finished up, hands going to his shoulders to smooth down the suits fabric. "Besides, I can tell that you're nervous." her eyes searched his face. "Are you okay, Kurt?"

He nodded, breathing out his nose gustily. "Yeah, I... I think so. It's just," he shook his head slightly. "Here I am, getting ready to go on a date with Blaine. But, you know, it's not the real thing. I'm going with you and he's going with Finn and I don't know." He admitted. "I guess I always thought that when I eventually went on a date with him it'd be the real deal." He looked at her insistently. "I know it's got to be this way, of course it does, it's the convincer."

**(When on a con, the convincer is the moment in the con that convinces the mark that the con is legit and that they should trust you, the conner.)**

"I've done this tons of times when I'm working a con. It's just... I've never had so much riding on it before." Kurt continued, swallowing slightly.

Rachel looked at him in sympathy, and pulled him to her in a careful hug, making sure not to wrinkle their clothes. "I understand Kurt," she pulled away to look at his face. "But, you know, you're not alone in this. Finn" her face tightened when she said his name but they both ignored it. "and I are here for you, we're going to be helping you out. We know its important."

Kurt smiled again, this time it was stronger. "I know, Rachel. Thanks. You two are the best inside men I could ask for," Rachel elbowed him lightly and they broke apart.

"I'm a _woman, _Kurt." she chided and he laughed, eyes regaining their spark despite the nerves still in them.

"Oh, sorry." he said, sarcastically. "You two are the best inside _women _I could ask for,"

This time when the laughter came it was from both of them, cutting short only when there was a knock on the door.

Kurt went to get it as Rachel yelped and raced off to track down her red heels.

Kurt smiled when he opened the door and saw Finn.

"Finn!"

They hugged each other. Kurt had found himself missing his step brother, they'd not seen each other since Christmas, only talking on the phone, and that was months ago.

"Hey Kurt!" Finn replied as they both pulled away. "Where's Rachel?". Kurt eyed him curiously.

_Why do I get the impression that Finn's more nervous with the prospect of seeing Rachel again and not the date? _

"She's gone to find her shoes." Kurt answered in amusement.

Finn nodded jerkily, eyes racing around the apartment and Kurt joined him out in the hall, closing the door behind him and calling behind to Rachel to tell her that they'd wait outside for her.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked and Finn nodded again, just as robotic as it was before.

"Yeah, man. Just, you know. Nervous." Kurt snickered mentally. _I bet you are, Rachel's very intimidating._

"Ah, about having to pretend that you're gay?" He asked, a little sarcastically and Finn nodded unconvincingly before shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, sort of."

"You know, you don't have to act any differently. Being gay doesn't change who you are, it just means you like people who are the same gender as you," Kurt coached. "Make sure you don't check out any of the waitresses and act like you're interested in what he's talking about and then you're set."

Finn nodded and Kurt could tell his words hadn't helped calm him at all. He stole himself and then asked, with trepidation. "Is this about Rachel?"

Finn's head snapped as he looked at him. "No," he denied weakly. "No... it's not... Just.. I don't want to talk about it,"

Kurt sighed, before giving in reluctantly. "Alright,".

They waited five minutes before Rachel _finally _graced them with her presence and said she was ready to go, ignoring Finn stiffly by directing anything she had to say to Kurt.

To his annoyance he saw Finn not speak up against being treated that way by Rachel, something that High School Finn would never have taken without a fight.

_Something has happened between those two, _Kurt thought, and then winced mentally. _This is really not the best time for their drama._

As they made their way over to_ Bread-sticks, _where they had told Blaine they would meet him, Kurt found himself hoping that even if Blaine still had suspicions about his sexuality, at the very least Rachel and Finn wouldn't embarrass him with their soap opera dramatics.

* * *

For what felt like the hundredth time Blaine cursed himself for agreeing to this date.

What the hell had he been thinking? Agreeing to go on a date with some random guy that _Kurt _had set him up with? _Kurt _who was going to be there on a date with _Rachel_? Did he _like_ being tortured?

_That must be it, _Blaine thought to himself flatly as he stood outside Bread-sticks in the cold, _I must be a masochist. I mean, first Jeremiah. Now Kurt. Fuck_, he winced, running his hand through his hair in annoyance, _I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I? _

He was distracted from his inner monologue at the sight of Kurt, Rachel and a horrendously tall guy dressed in flannel, getting out of a cab.

Surveying the stranger, who he knew must be Finn, Blaine had to admit he wasn't bad looking._ But, _he thought, _he's way too tall. I mean, even Kurt makes me look like a fucking hobbit and he's only a few inches taller than me._

_And, _he continued, still surveying Finn, _he looks too macho for me. I bet he played football in high school. I hate football. I bet Kurt doesn't like it either. _

And that was how the evening continued for Blaine.

Finn would say something to Blaine and Blaine would have to tear his eyes away from Kurt in order to reply because Kurt looked far too amazing in a tux - much like the one he had worn to the charity ball – for his own good.

Even though Kurt wore a suit most days at the station it still looked as good as it did the first time he'd seen him in one. This happened again and again throughout the evening and Blaine became more and more pissed off as the night wore on.

He was practically ignoring Finn in favour of staring at Kurt, who was snuggling with Rachel on the other side of the table. (Not that he thought Finn really cared, he was staring at them too.)

Just the sight of Kurt and Rachel holding hands as they whispered stuff into each others ears and fed each other pieces of their food because "You have to try it Kurt, it's amazing!"and "Rachel, this is like heaven on a fork, you've got to taste this!". So while Blaine remained calm, dapper and composed on the outside, on the inside he was cursing and calling Rachel and Kurt the foulest and rudest things he could come up with.

_Who even does that? _He thought sourly, _This is a public place!_

"You guys make the cutest couple," he commented because even if he hated it, fuck it all they _did _with their hand holding and cuddling and, god forbid, the ridiculous pet names.

(Kurt and Rachel actually had started a bet before going out that whoever managed to call the other the most ridiculous pet name and not get called out on it the other restocked their wine cabinet.)

After Blaine had made his comment Kurt's eyes flashed and Rachel looked amused for some reason he couldn't comprehend.

"Thanks," Kurt said and was that... sarcasm he detected?

_But why would Kurt be-_

"I don't know why I was so worried this would be weird," Rachel smoothly interjected, pulling Blaine from his train of thought.

Suddenly with a sour taste in his mouth Blaine missed the appreciative glance Kurt shot her as he reached for his beer and took a huge swig.

"And I guess it's not very surprising. I mean, we've been friends for so long, it's natural that our friendship went into this direction. It's the next logical step," Rachel continued, turning to Blaine. "Aren't I lucky, Blaine?" She shot a look at Kurt, who was making gestures for her to shut up, not that Blaine saw, he was too busy pretending that his meal was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. "I mean, just look at him," Rachel carried on talking. "Super fit, funny, awesome singing voice-"

Blaine couldn't take it any more. Apparently neither could Finn.

"-Yeah, Rachel, we get it. You're extremely lucky,"

"-You'll be the envy of all the girls. Please excuse me, I need the toilet,"

"Me too, I'll go with you, Blaine,"

As the boys made their way to the rest-rooms Kurt turned to Rachel.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Kurt hissed and Rachel turned suspiciously innocent, turning to her bowl and she dipped her spoon into her soup (tomato and basil).

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said as she took a sip.

"Don't even try that Rachel Berry," Kurt growled in hushed tones so as not to draw attention. "I've got more dirt on you than anyone. Don't think I won't let your Taylor Swift phase slip to the paparazzi because I swear to god I will-"

"Gah, fine." Rachel huffed, putting her spoon down to lean back against her chair, cross her arms and raise her head in defiance. "You can't blame me for trying to be your wing man, Kurt."

Kurt opened his mouth to respond. "Not," Rachel added before he could speak. "That I need to. It's pretty obvious he has a thing for you,"

This time Kurt _did _manage to speak up. "No he does not!" he protested before pausing, looking at her with an odd expression on his face. A look torn between reluctant hope and disbelief. "You think?"

Rachel rolled her eyes in exasperation, reaching for her wine glass and taking a sip. Her silence said that it was pretty obvious.

Kurt waved it off. "It's probably just left over feelings from the one night stand," he said breezily. "Not to mention the confusion its probably produced. The constant changes in his stance on my sexuality that I've caused probably hasn't helped much either."

Rachel hit him on the shoulder and as Kurt let out a yelp in pain she chastised him. "Kurt, you're not stupid so please don't act like you are. He's been glowering at us all evening, all but ignoring Finn-"

"-Not that he noticed, he's only had eyes for _you_ all night," Kurt interjected but Rachel resolutely ignored him, speaking louder to drown out his remark.

"-_and _his 'congratulations' sounded far to jealous to be genuine." she stared Kurt down, raising an eyebrow in expectation for his retaliation.

"... We've only known each other for two weeks-!" Kurt started and to his surprise and confusion Rachel burst out laughing. Wiping tears from her eyes to see Kurt looking at her like she'd lost her mind, she realised he had no idea what she found so funny.

"Kurt, you've known each other for five years!" Kurt's look of confusion turned into one of understanding.

"Yes but he doesn't know that I'm who he's known all that time," Kurt protested, "_and_ these two weeks are the only time I've really been myself around him so-"

"- I'm fairly sure you've at least been attracted to him for four years and two hundred and forty five days of those five years." She interrupted him and Kurt smiled fondly in reluctance, reminiscing.

"Oh yeah." he said. "Our second meeting."

* * *

_Four years and two hundred and forty five days ago: _

_When Kurt spotted the fresh faced detective across the dance floor, his face obscured with a mask covered in what (if Kurt wasn't mistaken) were Canary feathers, he could hardly believe his eyes. _

Detective Anderson, _he thought to himself, his eyes glittering under his own mask (Black Bird feathers). _We meet again.

_Their eyes met across the room and Kurt chuckled at the sight of the detective's eyes widening before his vision was obscured by dancers spinning around the dance floor. By the time the dancers had cleared Kurt had moved away from the part of the room, going out onto the balcony that opened out from the ball room._

_Kurt was honestly incredibly surprised that Anderson was at this ball. It was a masquerade held for some stuffy rich persons birthday. The only reason Kurt had attended at all was because of the rare __Picasso in their gallery (already missing from its space on the wall and being secreted out of the building via one of the caterers who owed him a favour). _

_He wasn't surprised when he heard someone approaching from behind and therefore didn't react when the detective spoke._

"_Porcelain."_

"_Detective Anderson," Kurt greeted, hearing but choosing to ignore the man's slight intake of breath at the realisation that he'd been remembered. "Whatever brings you here?" _

"_A tip from a viable source," the detective replied smoothly, moving to stand beside him at the railing. "He said you were interested in collecting Picasso's at the moment. I heard that the Addler's were holding a party and was confident that you'd make an appearance considering the value of the Picasso they have."_

_Kurt nodded, refusing to be impressed even as he cursed inwardly. _

God dammit Adam! _He cursed inwardly. _

_He'd made the mistake of mentioning how he'd taken to acquiring Picasso's more often recently to Adam a few weeks back after they had became... reacquainted with one another. _

_He and Adam had an agreement that just because they had no strings attached sex occasionally, it by no means meant that they wouldn't rat each other out if there was something in it for them. _

_Obviously there had been something in it for Adam._

"_Very clever, detective." Kurt murmured as he looked out at the stars. The Addler Estate was in the country and as it was away from the polluting fumes of New York City they were twenty times more visible. "You've gotten farther than any of the other detectives assigned my case have."_

_The detective leant against the balcony railing also, looking at Kurt in the low light._

"_I try," he mumbled modestly and Kurt chuckled huskily._

"_You succeed," He said dryly and the detective snorted, obviously a little on edge at the casual approach Kurt had to their second meeting._

_Kurt sighed as the music inside changed from a foxtrot to a waltz, the strains of music slower and more graceful._

"_I take it the painting's already out of the building," Anderson stated and Kurt nodded distantly._

"_Obviously. I presume you're here alone?" _

_Anderson shook his head in frustration and that told Kurt everything he needed to know._

"_The NYPD not willing to put out resources on the word of a newbie and his unreliable source?" Kurt asked archly and the detective grunted._

_Kurt nodded thoughtfully and started searching his suit jacket._

_Anderson jumped a little at the sudden movement and then eyed the thief in interest. _

"_What are you doing?" He asked curiously._

"_You'll see," Kurt muttered as he pulled out a white piece of card from the lining of his jacket._

"_Do you have a pen?" Kurt questioned and the detective frowned._

"_Sure," he reached into his pocked and retrieved one of his black pens. "Why?" he said as he extended the pen in offer to Kurt._

_Kurt took it and leant the card on the balcony railing, a little crease appearing in between his eyebrows as he concentrated on writing._

_He looked up and smirked. "I'm feeling generous," he said, answering Anderson's question, then he turned back to the card._

"_Here you go," he said as he signed the card with a flourish. "Hand this to your head of department when you get into the station next. You can read it before hand if you want to."  
_

_Kurt slid forward and Anderson seemed to hold his breath as Kurt invaded his personal space to tuck the card into the front pocket of his suit smoothly, even as he tucked the pen into his own inner breast pocket. _

_He brushed off some imaginary lint from the detective's chest. _

"_There," he murmured and withdrew, his senses heightened as a wave of desire flooded through him at the sight of the handsome detective breathless and alert in the dark._

_Kurt left while the detective was distracted, Anderson coming out of his shock induced stupor just fast enough to hear Porcelain's "Good bye detective," fade from the air._

_It was only once Blaine had gotten home and was getting changed did he remember the card (and realise that Porcelain had stolen his pen, not that he was surprised. He should have known better to give his pen to the thief) as his fingers encountered it when he was clearing out his dress suit jacket before rehanging it._

_It was, as he expected, one of Porcelain's calling cards. Yet when he turned it over it had a message written in elegant handwriting (reminiscent of French penmanship,). It read:_

* * *

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_Let it be understood that I seldom do things like this. In fact the only reason I am now doing so is because of the surprising competence of Detective Anderson and how his competence is being treated. _

_Whilst you are of course under no obligation to do so, I would recommend Detective Anderson be appointed lead detective on my cases. Whilst I doubt he'll be able to catch me, he did manage to find a (semi) reliable source who provided useful insight into discerning that I would be at the Addler Masquerade Ball tonight. _

_This is the best any of your detective's have managed to do so it would be pure foolishness not to do as I recommend. _

_Besides, I do so like a challenge. _

_Catch me if you can._

_Detective Anderson – until the next time._

_~Porcelain~_

* * *

Kurt still had Blaine's pen. In fact he had last used it to write a check for his half of the rent.

"And if you _still_ refuse to believe that Blaine has a thing for you Kurt," Rachel was still talking. "Then how do you explain him excusing himself when I started waxing poetic about your attributes?"

Kurt jumped at the chance to voice something he'd been wanting to say since he beginning of the evening.

"Oh yeah? Then why did Finn go with him?" He asked triumphantly, raising an eyebrow in question.

Rachel tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "I plead the fifth," she said and Kurt scoffed.

"You can't plead the fifth Rachel, we're not in court!" Rachel snorted.

"You don't have to just be in court to be able to plead the fifth,"

"Maybe so but I'd rather you'd refrain from doing so unless you are!" Kurt insisted, "It makes me jumpy!"

Rachel sat back, taken aback a little. "Oh," Rachel said. "Sorry Kurt."

He started laughing and Rachel looked at him. He could tell she was thinking he had gone insane.

"Sorry," he spluttered, still laughing. "It's just this whole evening is so fucked up Rachel. God."

"Kurt!" she admonished him for his cursing.

"Sorry," he apologised, wiping hysterical tears of laughter from his eyes. "I don't why but I've started swearing a lot more frequently with Blaine around. I'll try and break the habit."

Rachel's eyes softened and she reached for his hand, taking it in hers.

"I think he's having a good influence on you," she noted and he snorted.

"What, by causing me to curse more?" He said sarcastically.

"Kurt," she said, "You know what I mean,"

He shook his head. "I'm still doing all the things I usually do," he reminded her, speaking vaguely as they were in public. "It's only because of the tracking bracelet that I'm not doing things as much as I used to."

Rachel shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm pretty sure you could have gotten around that bracelet if you really wanted to." Her eyes softened. "But you didn't." She pulled him into a hug, him trying to get her off of him.

"Rachel, get off! Stop it!" He squirmed, waiting out the hug. When she finally released him he shook himself a little.

Wrinkling his nose he said, "Gah, girl germs." He shuddered a little more for comic affect and Rachel laughed.

"You know," Kurt said once Rachel had calmed. "Blaine and Finn have been gone a long time. I wonder if they're okay."

Rachel nodded, thinking. "Yeah, you're right. Why don't you go to the bathroom and check on them?" she suggested.

Kurt nodded, "Okay, be back in a second."

Getting up from the table he made his way across the floor to the bathrooms, pushing open the door to the men's toilets he paused at the sight in front of him.

"Blaine?" He asked, "Finn?" He shook his head, as if to shake the sight out of his head. "What are you doing?"

With the two guys were about ten other men, all were sitting in a circle, cross legged on the floor.

"Are you playing _poker_?" Kurt asked, incredulously.

Blaine nodded sheepishly and Finn nodded too, but far more energetically.

"Yeah, man!" he said, enthusiastically. "And Blaine's winning." he added. "It's insane."

Kurt turned to Blaine, eyebrow raised and Blaine laughed, still sheepish. He reached up to his hair and combed his hand through it, messing it up a little, causing some of his hair to come free of the gel. Short tufts of it were sticking out and it looked ridiculous.

Kurt shook his head in wonder. "Alright," he said, turning to the other men in the room. "You lot, get out of here. Your dates and families, whoever you've come with, are probably missing you." When none of the men chose to move, he rolled his eyes and pulled out Blaine's NYPD badge.

"I'm with the NYPD, now get the hell out of here." When all the men scrambled to get their winnings and leave he snorted. He then turned to Finn. "You too Finn," Finn nodded and also got his winnings together, moving more slowly than the other men. When Blaine started to stand up too, all of his winnings already in his pockets, Kurt turned to him.

"Not you Blaine, you can stay." Finn paused at the doorway of the bathroom.

"Are, are you guys not coming too?" Kurt's eyes glittered.

"No, we'll be a few minutes, Blaine needs to sort himself out." Kurt's gaze turned slightly sadistic. "Besides, you can handle entertaining Rachel for a few minutes, can't you?"

Finn audibly gulped and started to protest.

"Go," Kurt ordered and Finn went.

He turned to Blaine, who was leaning casually against the wall next to the hand drier.

"He seems scared of you," Blaine noted and Kurt snorted, moving to him.

"He knows he should be." When Blaine shot him a confused look Kurt elaborated.

"He's my stepbrother, he's known me since we were... sixteen I think? He knows he should be afraid." He snorted and shook his head, reaching out to turn Blaine to face the mirror. "At least, he knows he should be more afraid of me than Rachel,"

"Yeah, I noticed that. It's none of my business, but is Finn... bi? Or completely gay, like me."

_And me, _Kurt thought, wryly.

Outwardly, he shook his head and reached his hands up to try and fix Blaine's hair.

"No, he's bi." Kurt invented. "How could you tell?"

"He_ has _been staring at Rachel all evening." Blaine said. "It was hard to miss," he added.

Kurt snorted. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they've had a thing for each other since High School," Blaine looked shocked.

"You don't mind?"

Kurt winced mentally. _Ah._

"No," he replied smoothly. "I mean, I'm pretty sure Rachel isn't all that into me. It'll hurt, sure, but this was more me trying to set them up than anything else." He and Blaine made eye contact in the mirror. "Thanks for the help." He said, slightly sarcastically and Blaine laughed.

"Yeah, I'm probably not helping with your matchmaking schemes, keeping Finn in the bathroom all evening, playing poker."

"It's fine," Kurt said. "I forgive you," he added, with a small smirk.

Blaine laughed, then stopped short as he realised something. He batted Kurt's hands away from his hair and then turned his head to face Kurt.

"Hey, whose badge is the one you pulled?"

Kurt smirked.

"Yours,"

Blaine's eyes widened and Kurt laughed.

"Relax, I only took it this afternoon," he said. "I picked it from your pocket when I pulled you into that friendly man hug we had before we left to go home,".

Blaine opened his mouth to speak but Kurt got there before he could. "I was going to return it," he reached into his pocket and gave it to Blaine. Blaine eyed Kurt suspiciously and he turned back to the mirror, tucking his badge into his pocket.

He raised his eyebrow at Kurt in the mirror as if to say 'carry on' and then winced as the hands Kurt returned to his hair tugged it painfully.

"Yeah," Kurt said, "This isn't working. Let's change position?"

Blaine's eyes widened and Kurt swore mentally as he remembered when he had last said that to Blaine. No doubt Blaine was remembering too. He had never seen Blaine remember anything about that night, not to his knowledge, so he was paying attention when he did this time.

Blaine's eyes glazed over a little, and his breathing stopped. After a few seconds it started again and Blaine shook his head, dazed. "Sorry about that," he said, smiling sheepishly. "Too much beer," he joked and Kurt laughed too, relieved that Blaine had obviously not realised it was_ him _he'd had a one night stand with and at how well Blaine had lied to him. It was all the more humorous considering he knew the real reason

"It's okay," Kurt assured him, smiling to himself as he withdrew his hands out of Blaine's hair. "As I was saying, would you sit cross legged on the floor? I'll kneel," Kurt laughed at his next thought. "You're just a bit too tall for me to make a difference on that mess," he gestured to Blaine's hair, "when we're both standing, this will be easier."

Blaine shrugged, laughing at Kurt's description of his hair.

"Sure," he said and they both did so. When settled, Kurt's hands made quick work of restyling Blaine's hair so it looked a little better.

Blaine laughed at the sight of himself in the mirror. "Thanks Kurt," he reached up to touch it and Kurt slapped his hands away.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chastised. "Leave it alone, that's how you messed it up in the first place,"

Blaine lowered his hand sheepishly. "Sorry," he said, a smile in his eyes. Kurt suddenly felt slightly self conscious.

"Yes, well," Kurt said haltingly. "Let's get back to our dates then shall we?" He said brightly and Blaine's face instantly grew slightly darker.

"Do we have to?" He asked sourly, pulling a face and Kurt laughed again.

"Yes, you sourpuss." Blaine winced.

"Sorry, it's just..." he paused before saying, "Well, Finn's really different to me and..." he winced again, expecting Kurt wouldn't take what he said next particularly well. "I've been really bored all evening," he admitted and to his surprise Kurt laughed.

"Me too," he said and Blaine's eyes widened. Kurt snorted at his reaction. "I've been playing up the pet names, food feeding thing," he said, deciding to screw it and dedicate himself to the cover lie for his first lie, which was the reason for the date in the first place. "all evening," he continued. "Rachel probably has too. More to make Finn jealous than anything," Kurt wisely decided to omit the fact that Finn's jealously was completely unnecessary, considering he was gay. "Not that she would ever admit it," Kurt added. "They had a terrible first meeting and ever since have been horrible to each other, ignoring the obvious sexual tension."

Blaine laughed as he made his way over to the door of the bathrooms, holding it open so that Kurt could walk through ahead of him.

"Oh, I know what you mean," he said, "My friends Wes and David have been best friends practically all their lives, and act like such a couple but every time me or our other friends call them out on it they deny it emphatically," he saw Kurt's look of slight confusion and added, "the both of them are convinced they're straight," Kurt nodded as Blaine shook his head in amusement. "The sexual tension has gotten so bad that we have to avoid hanging out with them else we'll be choking on it,"

Kurt snickered. "Oh, I had a friend like that. In school he was a total jock and he refused to accept the fact he was gay, not" he added "that it was unwarranted, I mean the second his friends found out they totally shunned him and harassed him, it was awful." Kurt sighed, "Poor Dav-" he cut short mid sentence and he cursed himself as he realised he had nearly let slip to Blaine that he knew David Karofsky. It was so easy to forget everything that had happened with him.

Kurt coughed to cover up his blunder and was incredibly relived they had reached their table before Blaine could question his abrupt ending of his last conversation.

"Looks like they're still ignoring the sexual tension," Blaine murmured in his ear as he crossed him to get to his seat and Kurt snickered. It was true.

Rachel and Finn had obviously not talked at all in the time they had been gone.

In fact Rachel was reading the desert menu, despite the fact not all of them had finished the main course, and Finn was tearing his paper napkin into shreds with the same amount of concentration one would apply when defusing a bomb (something Kurt had actually trained himself to do, just in case).

"Having fun guys?" Kurt said with false brightness and snickered under his breath at the dark look Finn shot him. Rachel managed to restrain herself from doing the same, instead answering in a (forced) light tone.

"You know it," she said through gritted teeth and leant over to kiss his check, keeping up the façade for Blaine's benefit (what she didn't know was that Kurt had already all but broken it in the bathroom.) As she did so she hissed into Kurt's ear, "You are _so _dead when we get home,"

Kurt snorted and locked eyes with Blaine across the table, who raised an eyebrow at him. Kurt crossed his eyes quickly and pulled a face without Finn or Rachel noticing and so they looked at Blaine like he was insane when he snickered.

"Something funny, Blaine?" Kurt asked, smiling innocently when Blaine realised he'd been set up and glared at him slightly.

"Inside joke," Blaine answered back flatly.

When Finn and Rachel turned back to their food Blaine's eyes narrowed.

_It's on, _he mouthed across the table and Kurt grinned beatifically.

* * *

When Kurt lent over Rachel's shoulder to look at an article mentioning her on her phone, Blaine stuck his tongue out at him in such a way that it made him snort.

"Sorry," he apologised to Rachel as she shot him a look. "Allergies, I guess," he said.

"Everybody has them," Blaine innocently chimed in on the other side of the table, earning himself a glare from Kurt when nobody was watching.

Rachel had been asked a question on her job in Broadway by Blaine and as she answered he struggled to pay attention because Kurt was mouthing her answer word for word behind her back, pulling faces as he did so.

When Kurt was taking a sip of his wine Blaine made an obscene comment which caused him to choke, the wine burning as it went down the wrong tube.

He shot a weak glare at Blaine as Rachel whacked him on the back, and Blaine simply smirked. "You okay, Kurt?" He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Just peachy," Kurt muttered.

At one point, the conversation somehow turned to sex and when Blaine was asked by Finn when he had last had pulled at a club (Kurt had elbowed Rachel in the ribs when she opened her mouth to make some witty comment) he opened his mouth to answer after maybe a minute of thinking about what to say and whether or not Finn's question was serious.

It proved fruitless however when he could hardly concentrate on speaking at the sight of Kurt wiggling his eyebrows at him from across the table and making obscene hand gestures subtly.

Eventually the night had to come to a close, Blaine going up to the counter to pay, taking the money Finn, Rachel and Kurt had given him to pay for their share.

When he was gone Finn and Rachel turned to Kurt. Finn looking at him like he was Satan incarnate and Rachel with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Kurt asked defensively and Rachel answered for the two of them.

"We're not stupid Kurt," she said importantly, "What happened with you and Blaine in the bathroom after Finn left?"

For once it seemed like Finn and Rachel were in agreement over something and Kurt sighed.

"I may have accidentally let it slip that Rachel and I weren't here on a real date," he mumbled. When Rachel started to call him an idiot he quickly carried on. "He still thinks I have a crush on you." he assured, "He just thinks that... "he winced. "He just thinks that I asked him on this date so I could get you two together, I'm sorry please don't kill me." He braced himself for the onslaught.

"Oh, and I told him Finn is bi," he added.

Before Rachel could go on a tirade, no doubt with Finn nodding along emphatically in the background, Blaine had returned and Rachel was forced to act civilly.

They made their way outside, talking about the meal, and when they got there they stopped in a slight awkward silence.

"Well," Rachel announced loudly. "This was very nice, we should do this again some time."

Blaine agreed politely while Kurt snorted and Finn looked like he was going to cry at just the thought of being forced into such an ordeal again.

Rachel kissed Blaine's cheek as she said goodbye and said an icy 'Good bye' to Finn as they waited for their taxi's.

Kurt pulled Finn into a hug while Blaine and Rachel said good bye and then Kurt and Blaine hugged quickly in a manly fashion. They pulled away and Kurt opened his mouth to bid Blaine farewell. Before he could do so Blaine held his hand out and said, sternly. "Badge."

Kurt snickered and gave back Blaine's badge that he'd sneakily stolen during the hug.

"Can't blame me for trying," he said and Blaine shook his head in reluctant amusement.

"'Night, Kurt."

"Good night, Blaine."

"See you at ten tomorrow," Blaine shot Kurt a look as he groaned. "And don't be late!"

Kurt sighed. "_Fine!"_ he huffed and Blaine chuckled as he walked Kurt to the taxi Rachel had called over.

Kurt slid in and Blaine shut the door. Kurt waved slightly and Blaine raised his hand in farewell.

Turning to Finn he grinned slightly. "Do you want the next cab, or shall I?"

Finn waved his hand. "It's all yours dude,"

Blaine grinned and hailed down a taxi. "It was nice meeting you," he said sincerely and Finn nodded.

"Yeah, man. You too," Blaine rambled off his address to the driver and got in, pulling away to join in the stream of yellow, white and black that was racing down the street.

Neither of them had said they wanted to go out again, and it was understood without it needing to be said that neither of them wanted to.

* * *

Once they had gotten in and were both in their night clothes they went into the living room with half a glass of wine each.

"So," Rachel said, "How do you think it went?"

Kurt nodded slowly. "Okay," he chuckled before continuing. "Well, better than expected."

Rachel took a sip of wine as they both sat in silence, both thinking back on what had happened.

They sat there for a few minutes until they had finished off their wine and took them through to the kitchen. Kurt washed them up quickly and dried them.

Then the two put the apartment to bed.

Rachel turned out all the lights while Kurt went round locking all of the windows and the doors, turning on the alarm after reattaching the trip wires he had set up throughout the night should someone bypass the locks and disable the alarm.

Once set off they would cause such a ruckus to be made that he and Rachel would be roused and able to catch the trespasser.

Rachel and Kurt hugged, Kurt pressing a kiss to the top of Rachel's head, causing her to wrinkle her nose at the reminder of her shortness.

They parted at their bedroom doorways with a soft 'good night' exchanged in the silence and darkness of the apartment, both their doors shutting as they slipped into bed.


	11. Chapter 10: Jimmy

**A/N: Hello lovely readers! :) I'm back with another chapter! I'm pretty sure now that I'll be updating on Sundays in three weeks (I'm away for the next two weekends unfortunately!) And whilst I can't promise that I'll be updating weekly there'll be at least one more update in the next three weeks, I promise! **

**Thank you for all the reviews, someone has even put this on their tumblr fic rec list which is ASTOUNDING, thank you so much you awesome person! If anyone's interested my tumblr is the-angel-of-thorsday so feel free to follow me :D I don't have any fanfiction on there but I DO reblog a lot of Klaine, Supernatural, Doctor Who and Sherlock so there's that! I'll put my tumblr on my profile :)**

**Okay, so! Have fun reading and enjoy the next chapter! I'd love to hear feedback, constructive criticism or just flat out praise ;) I'm kidding! Tell me your thoughts on what might happen next, anything you'd like to happen in particular, any ideas you have! I'll try and include some of them :D Okay, bye!**

* * *

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_They parted at their bedroom doorways with a soft 'good night' exchanged in the silence and darkness of the apartment, both their doors shutting as they slipped into bed._

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Jimmy**

When Kurt stepped out of the elevator into the White Collar Crime department he was surprised to see everybody rushing around, panicked. He spotted Blaine's friend Artie in the midst of all of it and called out to him above the ruckus in utter confusion.

"Artie, what's going on?"

Artie wheeled over to him instantly, dodging around the other officers and Kurt was amazed at how insane everything was.

Officer Chang was dancing sporadically in a corner of the room and Sam Evans, an intern, was standing on his desk doing some sort of strip tease. His shirt was off, and whilst Kurt appreciated the view (his chest was surprisingly toned) he didn't really want anything else to come off.

"Hi Kurt." Artie said breathlessly, coming to a stop in front of him. "Thank God you're here, maybe you can calm everyone down." He wiped his hand over his forehead. "I feared for my life at one point," he joked, semi serious as he looked around at the chaos. "I thought I might get crushed."

Kurt nodded and gestured to the handles of Artie's wheelchair in question. When Artie gave him his consent he took the handles and pushed Artie to the side of the room, out of the way from all the people stampeding.

"Give me a second," Kurt said, mind racing as he thought about what he could do to calm down everyone. Artie nodded, waving his hand.

"Sure," Artie murmured.

Kurt then walked in front of the panicking officers and rose his voice.

"Oi! You lot!" He projected, putting his theatre background to good use, and when an intern turned and saw him standing with his hands on his hips and a furious expression on his face they instantly turned to the person next to them, elbowing them in the side.

In about five seconds everyone had turned to face him and it was so silent in the room that you could have heard a pin drop.

"Shut up and get back to work," he ordered and everybody rushed to do so. Kurt stood there silently for a few seconds, honestly completely shocked that that had worked before shaking his head and returned to Artie, wheeling him to his cubicle.

Conversation slowly started up again behind him in whispers.

"_Damn, the consultants scary,"_

"_Yeah, I heard from Sarah he and Blaine have a thing,"_

"_Seriously?"_

"_Yeah,"_

_"I wonder what..."_

Kurt eventually fell out of ear shot and couldn't help but feel amused.

"What's gotten everybody in such a bother?" He asked, glancing down at Artie and the latter shook his head in frustration.

"No body really knows what's going on." Artie admitted. "Blaine came in and shut himself in his office and without him keeping order everybody went nuts."

"Didn't Sue-"

"Oh she tried," Artie cut him off. "Believe me. But no body listened."

Kurt nodded slowly as they came closer to Artie's cubicle.

"Hey, where were you any way?" Artie asked, tilting his head up to look at Kurt. It looked painful. "If you'd have been here before this probably wouldn't have happened. Weren't you meant to be here by ten?"

Kurt snorted. "What did Blaine do, go around announcing it to everyone that I'd be staying on as official consultant?" When Artie nodded he sighed, deciding to let it go and answered Artie's question.

"Yes, I was meant to be here earlier," he admitted. "I was getting my tracking bracelet off." He wriggled his right arm in indication and Artie turned around in another awkward and painful looking movement, pulled up Kurt's sleeve and whistled at the sight of bare skin on the wrist that was normally covered in the hard plastic of the tracking bracelet.

"Wow Kurt," Artie joked, "Way to be a slut," he poked at the bare skin, seeming to marvel at the sight of it.

Kurt snorted and wriggled his arm again in an attempt at shaking off Artie's prodding finger. Artie grinned and turned back around, abandoning his incessant poking of Kurt's wrist.

"You're a free man now!" Artie exclaimed enthusiastically. "We should celebrate!"

Kurt laughed. "Tell me what you want to do and we'll do it." he assured him and Artie whooped, banging his knees in excitement.

They pulled up to Artie's cubicle before he could propose any of the ideas he'd doubtlessly had since Kurt gave him free reign on celebration plans and he said, needlessly, "This is my stop."

Kurt grinned and dipped down to grab Artie's hand in order to shake it. Artie was having none of that and pulled him down into a bro hug.

"Alright," Kurt said in fair well, nodding to the door of Blaine's office that was situated a few yards away from Artie's cubicle. "I'm going in,"

Artie nodded and rose a hand. "Fair well, my brother. You will be dearly missed," he intoned, his large grin ruining the the serious expression he was going for and Kurt snickered.

"Bye," Kurt said, smirking.

He turned around and made his way to Blaine's office, picking up the two pear teas he'd picked up at the Lima Bean from where he'd set them down at the sight of the pandemonium in the cubicles.

He opened Blaine's office door and walked in.

"Honey," He called jovially, inwardly slightly anxious at what he might find as he moved into the room cautiously. "I'm home,"

Blaine looked up from where he was sitting on his desk chair and jumped.

"Kurt, you're here. Thank god." He spouted, eyes wild as they looked about the room in what looked like madness. "What do I do?" he got up from his chair and stalked towards Kurt, who hurriedly pressed one of the teas into his hand. "What do I _do_, Kurt?" He asked crazily, staring at Kurt intently and not seeming to realise he'd just been handed a drink.

Kurt took a deep breath and reached behind himself, groping for the doorknob blindly to shut the office door. The blinds had already been drawn else he would have done that too, to save Blaine from future embarrassment when his co workers saw him lose it.

"Okay," he said slowly. "First off all, sit down." He steered Blaine to his seat and pressed down on his shoulders lightly, which was enough to make Blaine sink into his seat. "Secondly, drink your tea."

As if on auto pilot Blaine robotically took sip after sip of tea, each gulp seemed to cause him to relax a bit more. When he deemed Blaine as relaxed as he was going to get, Kurt perched on the edge of Blaine's desk, wary of another semi psychotic outburst from Blaine, and spoke again.

"Now, tell me what's wrong."

Blaine took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.

"We've got some of Porcelain's DNA," he said quickly and Kurt froze. "It's from the gallery where the charity ball was held." Blaine continued, "A champagne glass was discovered at the scene of the crime and we're pretty sure it belonged to him". Kurt cursed himself, he didn't even remember carrying it and it was such a rookie mistake to make.

Blaine took a deep breath and carried on in a rush of words.

"And I'm going insane, Kurt!" Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes, looking incredibly helpless, and carried on talking even whilst he was obviously having a complete mental break down. "What do I do with this information? Kurt this is the turning point of my entire career! With these I can find him! Kurt, _I can catch Porcelain!"_

_I know Blaine! _Kurt moaned mentally, his brain finally unfreezing from its shock induced stupor, _That's why I'm freaking out!_

Blaine carried on talking in the same fashion while Kurt tried to calm down.

_Okay, what do I do, what do I do? _he thought frantically. _I've come back from something like this before, I just need to... I need to steal the DNA! Or I can sabotage it in some way. That's... that's what I'll do. Okay, I can do that. Jesus Christ, why is a ton of evidence on me cropping up all of a sudden? _Kurt started to turn hysterical. _First Jesse now this!_

"Okay, first of all," Kurt said, his inner turmoil never showing, "Where are you storing them?"

Blaine gestured behind him with his thumb, to the filing cabinets Kurt had noticed on his first day. "There," Blaine said quickly, looking at Kurt with relief, relief that he was being told what to do and didn't have to think. "In there,"

Kurt nodded. _Alright, so somehow I need to get the keys... _He brightened. _Or I could just jimmy the lock._

Kurt tuned back in to the sound of Blaine babbling away.

"Calm down, Blaine," Kurt soothed. "Give me the keys to the filing cabinet and then go and get yourself a coffee, I think you need something stronger than the tea."

Blaine nodded, reaching for his belt, and then paused.

"Oh." He said, suddenly sounded calmer. "No, sorry Kurt. I can't do that,"

"What?" Kurt asked, stomach sinking. "Why?"

"Well, although you may be off of the tracking bracelet, you're still a criminal." Blaine said.

_Damn,_ thought Kurt, wincing mentally. _So close._

"Oh," Kurt said, "Of course."

After a brief pause in the conversation, Kurt decided to try to push his luck. "Though, you know, I was only in jail because of public indecency," he added and shut up at the look Blaine shot him.

"Nice try, Kurt," Blaine said flatly and, sighing through his nose, Blaine stood up.

"Okay, I'll go and get some coffee," he made his way to the door. "Do you want anything?" He shot to Kurt over his shoulder.

"No, I'm good," Kurt said, smiling charmingly and caressing his waist in explanation. "Need to cut down on all the sugar, else I'm going to get fat," he joked and he could have sworn he heard Blaine snort.

"Not likely," Blaine muttered and Kurt's head snapped at the sound.

"Did you just-" he started to say but it was too late, Blaine was gone.

Kurt shook his head and then cracked his neck, turning to the file cabinet in determination.

_Well, _he thought, reaching into his breast pocket for his mini lock pick kit, _here goes._

It had been a long time since he'd last had to pick a lock, a long for him anyway, the last time he had was at the charity ball. So Kurt was ready for it to take a while. (Although, most people don't call it lock picking in 'the business', on the grounds of it sounding too juvenile. Personally, Kurt liked to think of it as jimmying the lock.)

Kurt estimated he had about ten minutes in which to jimmy the lock on Blaine's filing cabinet, locate the files and evidence, destroy said evidence, and then re-lock the lock he'd previously jimmied. He didn't think it would be too hard.

Something he hadn't thought to consider was that he may not be _able _to jimmy the lock.

He pulled, poked, prodded and twisted until he could pull, poke, prod and twist no more until eventually he only had about ten seconds to get away from the filing cabinet and pretend he was looking at some letters on Blaine's desk innocently before Blaine came back in.

Blaine stopped short at the sight of Kurt, eyeing him suspiciously.

"You're up to something," he said, eyes narrowed. Kurt gasped and placed a hand on his chest.

"Who, moi?" He asked innocently, a little too tightly wound to be believable.

"Yes, you," Blaine replied, gruffly. "What's your angle, Hummel?"

"My angle?" Kurt asked, fluttering his eyelashes and biting on his lip, keeping up his guise of innocence. "What ever do you _mean, _detective?"

Kurt felt a jolt of satisfaction go through him when he saw Blaine's eyes flick down to his teeth teasing his lip and then back up, and felt smug when Blaine went on to say, huskily.

"Yes, Hummel. Your angle." He cleared his throat, trying to sound stern. "What are you trying to pull?"

Kurt smirked inwardly when he realised what direction he could take to get Blaine's filing cabinet keys.

_Seduction._

"Detective Anderson," Kurt said and felt smug when he noticed that he'd managed to say it in such a way it had Blaine catching his breath. "I assure you, my intentions are completely innocent."

* * *

"Detective Anderson," Kurt purred, noting the way Blaine's breath seemed to catch at the sound of his breath. "I assure you, my intentions are completely innocent."

_Yeah, right._ Blaine thought, a tad hysterically, his eyes widening in slight panic as Kurt started to come towards him.

_This is not happening, _he thought, crazed, looking about subtly for escape, _how is this happening?_

The way Kurt was moving, his hips swaying as he slinked his way across the room, sparked something in him.

* * *

_Blaine looked at the stranger in amusement from where he was leant against his head board of his bed. They were taking a break between rounds and the stranger was tottering around the room drunkenly, examining things in his room._

"_Come back to bed," Blaine urged and the man looked at him._

"_Don't tell me what to do," he said in drunken outrage, moving back towards him despite what he said._

_Blaine looked at him in amusement. "You seemed to like it earlier." He quipped and in that instant the strangers smile turned wicked._

"_Oh, is that how its going to be?" He breathed and in the next instant he seemed to be someone completely different._

_His steps toward the bed turned less pliant and more seductive and Blaine's mouth went dry as the man _stalked _towards him, halting at the edge of the bed to begin _crawling _up it and to rest in between Blaine's legs, his smirk curling wickedly as his head lowered-_

* * *

Blaine shook his head and when he came to it was to Kurt standing a few inches away from him.

"Ah!" He reeled back in shock and Kurt held back a snicker. "I'm going to – I'm going to go and get that coffee."

"Okay," Kurt said sweetly, "I'll stay here."

Blaine practically _ran _out of the office, only realising when he got to the cafeteria that he already had coffee back in his office.

* * *

The second Blaine was out Kurt turned to the filing cabinet, twirling the keys he'd pick pocketed from Blaine's pocket when he'd (presumably) had a flash back to that night around his finger. Setting down the keys, he pulled on a pair of leather gloves in a practised motion.

He quickly determined which key unlocked the filing cabinet and stuck it in the lock, twisting the key and unlocking the cabinet with a soft _click_.

What followed next was a mad scrambling through the first shelf for the file.

_Damn,_ thought Kurt when he couldn't find the file containing the information on his recent heist, before moving on to the next shelf. Finding the right key methodically and then the mad scrambling continued.

_Got it,_ he thought, grimly, pulling out the folder quickly.

Opening it, he skim read the folder quickly and then stopped at the finger prints and the picture from the camera surveillance.

"What...?" He muttered, eyeing the picture and prints in confusion. "That's not..."

Realisation struck him quickly and he laughed.

"Oh thank God." He exclaimed, still snickering, before he replaced the files and re-locked the cabinet. Then he proceeded to wipe down Blaine's keys of his finger prints, he'd not thought to put on gloves before stealing them.

The picture from the camera surveillance wasn't him so most likely neither were the prints.

_I knew I wouldn't be so reckless as to bring in evidence with me,_ Kurt thought in triumph.

Sure the the man in the picture had the right build and you couldn't see his face, but Kurt knew it wasn't him because the suit the man wore wasn't the one he himself had worn on the night of the ball, _and _from examining the body language of the man in the image he was completely drunk.

_Not to mention, _Kurt thought, thinking back on the time stamp that was on the image with a smirk, _the guy had gotten in there two hours after I'd left. _He shook his head. _I must not have locked the door properly. _

Kurt thought back on the events of the day so far in amusement. Twice in the last two weeks Blaine had gotten wind of Porcelain's prints, one time Kurt managed to outmanoeuvre him and the other they were duds.

Kurt thought back on when Blaine had discovered that the prints he'd gotten off of St James weren't Porcelain's.

* * *

"_What?" Blaine asked, staring at Emma in shock as she held out a picture of the man who's prints they'd thought were Porcelain's. "That's not Porcelain."_

_The man in the picture was dead they'd found, he'd been dead for weeks.  
_

Not to mention,_ Kurt thought in amusement as he surveyed the image of the dead end Puck had promised him. _He's the wrong build, height _and _ethnicity.

_Kurt made sure to wipe the amused look off of his face before Emma or Blaine saw it._

_"I can't believe this," Blaine breathed. "St James lied to us!"_

_Emma looked at Blaine sympathetically. "Just a minor setback, I'm sure," she soothed, confidently as she was so assured in Blaine's abilities._

_Which was doing jack shit for Blaine's own confidence._

_"Thanks Emma," Kurt said and hooked his hand around Blaine's arm, then began towing him back to his office gently._

_It was when they were in the elevator that Blaine said something._

_"I really thought this was it," he breathed and Kurt felt his heart swell in empathy for the detective. _

_"I'm sorry," he said, truthfully. He _was_ sorry, sorry that he couldn't help him make him feel better – the only way to do that at that point of time would be to hand himself in and that was most certainly not happening any time soon. _

_Blaine shook his head. "It's not your fault," he said. "You didn't trust St James when he said he had Porcelain's prints." _

"_Neither did you," Kurt said firmly. "This was just like any usual lead the NYPD gets, this time it just didn't come anonymously. We investigated the lead and it didn't take us anywhere, you didn't trust St James any more than you would any other person giving in a tip, you were just invested in the outcome of this emotionally."_

"_So," Kurt said, bumping Blaine with his shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Anderson. You'll get there eventually," he lied, not feeling guilty in the slightest for doing so._

_Blaine looked at Kurt, a small smile on his face as he straightened up._

_"Thanks Hummel," He said quietly and at that moment the doors to the elevator opened and they walked on to Blaine's office to start from scratch._

Kurt was disturbed from his reminiscing by the sound of someone at the door. When he looked up and saw Blaine had returned he grinned.

"I already have coffee," Blaine offered up lamely and Kurt chuckled.

"I can't believe it took you so long to realise," Kurt said smoothly and slightly scathingly, unintentionally channeling his inner Porcelain.

He was too busy being amused to notice the way Blaine's eyes widened and the suspicious looks he was being sent.

There was an awkward silent pause before Blaine cleared his throat.

"Out of my chair, Kurt." He intoned and Kurt smirked, settling down and rotating his hips to grind his butt deeper into the leather of the chair in an immature (and slightly sexual if he was being completely frank) manner, telling Blaine without words that he wasn't moving any time soon.

"Make me," he said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Blaine raised an eyebrow in return at Kurt's immaturity. Shaking his head he stretched across his desk to grab his coffee, then plopped down on his leather sofa. Laying on his side and propping his head up with his hand, he took a sip of his coffee.

"Fine," Blaine said, "I'll just stay here on my incredibly comfortable sofa."

Kurt surveyed Blaine on the couch and slowly got up to sit on his usual spot on top of Blaine's desk, his victory not as fun as it should have been considering how nonchalant about it Blaine was being.

"You win," he said sulkily and before he could blink Blaine was up off of the sofa and was sinking down into his chair.

"Thank god," he breathed, "That sofa is _supremely_ uncomfortable,"

Kurt looked at Blaine in shock and reluctant awe. "You played me," he said in disbelief.

"Yup," Blaine said, popping the p before taking another sip of his coffee. Then, Kurt could hardly believe his eyes as he was so sure he imagined it, Blaine ground his_ butt_ into the chair just like Kurt had done before. He raised an eyebrow at Kurt as he did so and Kurt couldn't help but get the feeling that Blaine was marking his territory.

Before Kurt could comment on it there was a knock at Blaine's office door, interrupting what would probably turn into yet another battle for dominance in the office.

Blaine and Kurt both turned to the door and standing there was a short Asian man Kurt had never seen before. At least not in person, he'd familiarised himself with everybody at the NYPD long before he named himself Porcelain to the police.

It was Figgins, the head of the NYPD in it's entirety. It was rare to actually see him considering there was so many divisions and branches of the NYPD - although seeing as they _were _in the headquarters Blaine had seen him more often than others would.

"Sir!" Blaine exclaimed, scrambling to get up and shake his hand and invite him into his office.

"Hummel," he hissed out of the side of his mouth to Kurt as he ushered Figgins into his chair. "Get out of here and don't come back until tomorrow."

Kurt didn't argue and got out of there. He knew Blaine would probably tell him what happened the next day or call him late at night or early in the morning to freak out about it like he normally did when something like this happened.

So, the instant Kurt was out of the building he took out his phone and dialled a number.

"Puck," he said into the receiver. "Meet me at Central Park in twenty minutes. I got out from the station early, now is the opportune time to execute plan Prints." Without waiting for Puck to respond he snapped his phone shut and tucked it back into his pocket.

It was for this reason that an hour later Kurt found himself crouching in front of Jesse St James' apartment door, jimmying the lock with his mini lock picking set.

"Come on, Hummel," Puck said, shifting from left foot to right as he looked around nervously. He was stood behind Kurt and as he was a hit-man he didn't usually execute these type of jobs, the breaking and entering kind. So he was nervous, which was understandable.

"Calm down, Puck," Kurt said in amusement as he twisted his lock pick patiently. "I'll have this open any second-" before he could finish his sentence there was a quiet clicking sound. "Now," Kurt finished triumphantly as he stood up and pushed open the door with a gloved hand.

He held it open for Puck as he passed through and then shut it after them, locking it again from the inside. They wouldn't take the same route on their way out. In fact they actually planned on using Jesse's fire escape.

"Okay," Kurt turned to Puck. "Put on your gloves and then start looking for the prints."

Puck nodded and pulled out a pair of woolly gloves. He was pulling them on when he noticed the amused and exasperated look on Kurt's face.

"What, dude?" He asked defensively, cracking his wool covered knuckles. "You told me to bring gloves, I brought 'em."

Kurt shook his head and cracked _his _knuckles, holding out his hands pointedly. Puck looked at them and grinned, not put out.

"Well, you never said they had to be fancy ass leather gloves."

Kurt snorted and sighed.

"Whatever Puck. Lets just find my prints."

Puck nodded, sobering up and then went over to the kitchen to start his search there.

"Dude," Puck called through. "He's got a _meat grinder._"

Kurt snickered, searching the living room methodically. "_I _don't even have a meat grinder, and I love cooking."

"I guess when you're living off of your parents money you can afford fancy ass cooking implements," Puck commented and Kurt hummed in agreement.

The searching carried on in this fashion for a while before Kurt finally told Puck to be quiet and focus on looking.

In the end, it took them about forty seven minutes to find the prints. They were hidden under a false floorboard in the bathroom.

Puck had found them and had pulled them out. He had shown the folder containing them to Kurt, who wrinkled his nose at the layers of dust and cobwebs that were clinging to it.

"Jesus," Kurt said as he took it from Puck with two fingers. "How long has he been hiding them down there?"

"No idea, dude. Maybe-" Puck said but before he could continue they heard the sound of jangling keys at the door and high pitched laughter.

"Shit," Kurt hissed and the jokes were forgotten.

They scrambled through the apartment, fixing anything Puck had disturbed (Kurt had been doing the job for so long that he put everything back where he'd gotten it the instance he was finished with it on principal) on their way. They had just reached the window, Puck had one leg out, when they heard the door open.

Puck jumped out and Kurt had just hopped over and started down the fire escape when they heard Jesse say, "Huh, I could have sworn I shut that window before I went out,".

"Don't worry, baby." A feminine voice replied, one that _definitely _didn't belong to Rachel. "Now, then, where-"

Kurt and Puck had reached the ground before they could hear anything else and were down the alley and to the main street before they said anything else.

They turned the corner and Puck raised a hand to hail a cab, turning to hiss to Kurt as he did so.

"I can't believe that prick is cheating on Rachel, _again._"

Kurt snorted. "_I _can," but when Puck shot him a look he shook his head. "I know what you mean." He assured as he slid into the cab and shut the door.

"Considering so much rides on her believing he's genuine in wanting to restart the relationship I really can't believe he's being such an idiot." It was silent for a moment before Kurt noticed the impatient look the driver was shooting him. "Oh, sorry," he said apologetically before rattling off his address quickly. "Besides," he continued, glancing out of the window. "It's just wrong anyway."

Puck was the one to snort this time and said, sarcastically. "Yeah, like St James cares about what's wrong," he shot Kurt a look. "Like we do."

Kurt smiled grimly. "I get it, Puck. And my answer remains the same. No, you can't _'gank'_ Jesse."

Puck exploded. "Why the fuck not?" The driver shot them a look in the rear-view mirror. "The bastards cheating on her again," Puck continued, heedlessly. "I say he gets what's coming to him." Puck lent towards Kurt in his urgency. "I bet Finn would agree with me."

"I said no, Puck." Kurt said firmly. "Unless someone sends you his file and offers you payment for it, Jesse won't be 'ganked' by anyone. At least, not unless its necessary."

Seeing the slightly concerned look on the cab drivers face Kurt quickly turned to Puck.

"And that's the end of the scene!" he spouted, improvising. "I think we've practised this scene enough, time to relax! We've done enough work for today."

Kurt saw Puck's confusion and glanced towards the driver and back, raising his eyebrows. That was enough for Puck to understand what was going on.

"Oh, good." Puck exclaimed in relief, settling back in his chair and smiling awkwardly, obviously not feeling confident in his abilities to act well enough and convince the driver they _weren't _a hit-man and conman talking about killing someone in the back of his cab. "I was really concerned the, er, director would have my balls – head!" He corrected when he saw Kurt shake his head minutely. "My head if I came into set again without knowing my... lines?"

Kurt face palmed mentally and plastered a fake smile on his face. "You were right to worry," Kurt assured. "I've worked with Ryan before and I know how he can get."

"Yeah, well, I don't know how Mrs Murphy handles it," Puck joked and when Kurt saw the cab driver mouth '_Ryan Murphy_' in awe at the front Kurt knew they'd pulled it off.

Kurt nodded to Puck slightly and he relaxed. They talked about their plans for the weekend for the rest of the journey and when they got to Kurt's building they got out of the cab. When Puck went to pay the driver said, red faced. "Sorry, I just- would you mind- could I get your autograph?"

Puck froze. "Er..-"

"He would be happy to," Kurt interject smoothly. "Wouldn't you, Jake?" He elbowed Puck's side, who started.

"Er...-"

"Do you have paper and a pen?" Kurt asked, speaking for Puck who seemed to be in shock.

When the driver responded in the positive and held them out, Kurt took them from him and handed them to Puck, who licked his lips and cleared his throat.

He went to lean on the roof of the car and then quickly jotted down a message and a fake signature.

Kurt read it over his shoulder and snickered softly, then yelped as Puck elbowed him.

_'Thanks for watching!'_ was what Puck had written.

"Er, here you go, dude." Puck said, scratching the top of his head and passing it through the window.

"Thanks!" the driver gushed and pulled away, forgetting to ask for the fare.

Kurt started to laugh hysterically.

"Shut up!" Puck said, glaring at him as they entered the building. "That was so not cool!"

Kurt didn't respond, just carried on laughing.

"Seriously, dude, he thinks I'm famous."

All he got was laughter in response.

"I'm not famous, man!" Puck said, insistingly.

Kurt wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Puck." He said, hiccuping. "But you have to admit, that was hilarious. He hadn't even heard of you and he asked for your autograph! Considering this is New York and people are used to celebrities in their midst that's pretty amusing!"

Puck considered this as the stopped in front of Kurt's door.

"I guess, it is kind of funny." Puck admitted.

"Told you," Kurt said, grinning as he unlocked his door and waited as Puck went into the apartment. He went in after him and then shut the door, taking off his jacket and toeing off his shoes.

"Hey Rachel, I'm back." He called and paused when he didn't get a response.

"Huh," he said, leading Puck into the kitchen. "I guess she's not home."

He turned to the fridge to get him and Puck a beer and plucked a yellow post it note off of the front of it.

"Here you go," He said, turning to Puck and handing him his beer. Kurt read the post it note as he undid the bottle cap of his own.

"It's from Rachel," he told Puck, putting the note on the counter as he lent against the island in the kitchen. "She's gone back to NYADA for the day, apparently her old dance teacher asked her to do a guest lesson as a favour." He took a swig of his beer and slapped Puck's thigh with his hand. "Off of the counter," he ordered. "I cook there." He took another sip of his drink and carried on. "So, yeah Rachel won't be back til five, that's..." he glanced at the Dali clock. "An hour or so away."

Puck nodded, thinking. "I think there's a game on," he said. "Want to watch it?" Kurt snorted.

"Not really, but you can. I've got some work I need to finish up anyway."

Puck nodded and they went through to the living room. He turned on the T.V and then whistled as Kurt tore off the sheet he had over his latest forgery and grabbed his paint brush.

"Dude, that's impressive." Puck noted. "Picasso, right?"

Kurt nodded as he dabbed delicately at the canvas. "Yeah, it's for a heist I have planned. I'll have to wait til Santana and Brittany are back in New York to execute it though, I need two inside women and you know how I hate to involve Rachel in my work." He glanced at Puck quickly before looking back at the canvas. "You can help too, if you want. I might need muscle."

Puck laughed, and cracked his knuckles as he lay sprawled out on the sofa.

"Yeah man, could be fun."

"Don't be too disappointed if I don't need you though," Kurt warned. "I've not fully planned it out yet."

Puck shrugged. "What happens happens," he said casually.

They didn't talk much after that, the only noises in the room coming from the television.

This was how Rachel found that when she came home.

"Kurt, I'm back!" she called as she came through the door.

"Hey Rachel," he replied, not taking his eyes off of the canvas as he added the last minute touches. "How was it?"

"Good!" Rachel replied, the sounds of her taking off her shoes and jacket drifting through to where he and Puck were sat. "Miss July is still as bad as I remember her but at least she has some grudging respect for me now,"

She came into the living room and stopped at the sight of Puck.

"Noah!" She exclaimed and he grinned, getting up from the sofa to pick her up into a hug, spinning her as she squealed. "It's so good to see you!" she continued when he set her down.

"You too, Berry." Puck said fondly before turning stern. "What's this I hear about St James messing you around again?"

Rachel laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully. "Actually Noah, it's the other way around this time." She informed him, snootily, and Puck laughed loudly.

"Speaking," Kurt interjected. "Of St James, Rachel. I have some news!" Rachel turned to Kurt immediately.

"Do you have the prints?" She asked, eagerly and when Kurt nodded she clapped.

"Yay! That means I can break up with him now, right?"

Puck and Kurt both laughed this time and she beamed.

"Yeah, Rach," Kurt said, grinning. "You can dump him."

Kurt got up from where he was painting and took his brush to the sink to wash it out.

As he was covering his paints up he heard Rachel and Puck catching up and smiled. They'd not talked to each other for a while.

"Okay," he said, interrupting their conversation. "I'm going to start dinner. Puck," he said, turning to the man in question. "You're staying, right?" Puck grinned.

"Don't mind if I do, Hummel. Your food rocks." He smirked playfully and softly elbowed Rachel in the side. "It's better than this one's food at least."

"I resent that!" Rachel exclaimed but before she could continue she squealed; Puck was tickling her.

Kurt left to go into the kitchen to the sounds of Rachel's giggles and Puck's booming laughter and the words "Noah," and "_Stop,_" repeating and getting higher and higher in octave the longer it went on.

He smiled and called to the two, "Puck you better stop before she wets herself again!"

"Nice one, Hummel!"

"Kurt that was _one _time! You don't see me bringing up you sleeping with Detective Anderson all the time,"

"What? He slept with Anderson?" The sounds of Puck coming into the room made Kurt groan.

"Damn it, Rachel!" Kurt yelled and only got laughter in response, turning from where he was kneading dough for pizza to see Rachel following Puck into the room with a grin on her face.

"When was this, Hummel?" Puck asked, an eyebrow raised and Kurt sighed in defeat.

"A couple of weeks back, when we went to that strip club,"

"You went to a strip_ club_-?"

"Oh yeah!" Puck spoke over Rachel. "I_ asked _if you got laid!" he grinned. "Nice one, Hummel." and he held up his hand for a fist bump.

Kurt looked at him, raising his eyebrow.

"Don't leave me hanging, dude." Puck said, his hand still raised.

"I'm not going to give you a fist bump for something so crude, Puckerman." Kurt said disbelievingly, turning back to his dough.

Hearing Rachel ask Puck if he wanted some wine and getting a response in the positive made Kurt smile – if Puck was mixing his alcohol he would most likely be crashing on the couch that evening.

He thanked Rachel over his shoulder when she put a glass of wine next to him, elbows deep in dough and groaned when Rachel and Puck hopped up on the island.

"Guys, seriously." he said, glancing over at them, "I cook on all the counters of this room. I have to clean in here every time you guys do that."

"Hey, man," Puck said, smirking. "You don't have to, it's just 'cause you're a neat freak."

Rachel laughed and Kurt huffed, blowing a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes up and away from his face.

"No, it's not," Kurt insisted. "You two contaminate the counters each time you sit up on them like that. I'll have you know that New York is one of the dirtiest cities in the world and you two go traipsing around it every day-"

"Blah, blah, blah." Puck interrupted, grinning and pulled a squealing Rachel into his lap. "Just admit it Hummel, you're a neat freak."

"Jesus Christ, Puckerman." Kurt snapped, in amused annoyance. "You're so juvenile."

"I'm right though," Puck smirked. "Aren't I?"

"Detective Anderson probably appreciates it, doesn't he Kurt?" Rachel joined in on tormenting Kurt as he cooked. "He seems pretty disorganised."

Kurt snorted. "Quite the opposite, actually." He thought back on Blaine's office and what little he saw of his apartment as he rushed out. "His apartment's neat. Even his bedroom is tidy."

This response got cat calls from the two delinquents behind him and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Oh grow up," he exclaimed, finished with the dough now and going to roll it out with a rolling pin.

"You didn't tell me you went to his place," Rachel said, apparently quite interested now.

Kurt rolled his eyes again. "Well, it's not like we did it in the subway or in an alleyway Rachel." He admonished. "Really, where do you think we did it? I didn't bring him home with me, did I?"

Rachel nodded, conceding the point.

"Fair enough," she allowed.

"Okay," Puck said, letting Rachel off his lap. "I think we've talked about Kurt and Anderson screwing for long enough."

"I agree," Kurt said immediately, over the sounds of Rachel's protests. "Did you get a response from your audition yet, Rach?"

Rachel nodded, hopping down from the counter to start setting the small table in the kitchen. "Yes, actually."

"Oh, what did you audition for, Berry?" Puck asked, downing his wine.

"Um, Maria for a production of West Side Story."

"Broadway," Kurt added, at the look of confusion on Puck's face.

"Oh right!" He said, nodding even though he had no clue what they were talking about. "That's a big deal right?"

Rachel opened her mouth and Kurt interjected before she could say anything.

"Most definitely," He said firmly, finishing rolling up the third load of dough into a roughly pizza shape. "We should celebrate at some point. Guys, come over and put what you want on your pizza."

Kurt moved out of the way to let Puck and Rachel add toppings to their pizza's.

Puck finished first and began throwing bits of cheese and pepperoni at Kurt while they waited for Rachel to finish. After the first couple of times Kurt began catching them in his mouth each time, to Puck's dejection. He'd wanted to get Kurt's designer outfit dirty.

Once Rachel had finished, Kurt went to put some cheese, peppers and mushrooms on his own pizza. After that they went into the oven.

"So," Kurt said once they had finished. "What should we do to celebrate your call back, Rach?"

"Um..." She thought. "We could go to dinner?" She said and Kurt nodded.

"We could." He agreed. "Puck?"

Puck pulled a face. "Just dinner?"

"Ooh, and bowling!" Rachel exclaimed.

Puck pulled another face and opened his mouth but Kurt spoke before he could say anything.

"If you want to go bowling Rach, we'll go bowling." He shot a look at Puck. "It's your callback after all."

"Oh this is going to be so much fun!" Rachel clapped her hands. "We should invite Blaine." she added.

"_Rachel_," Kurt groaned.

"If Blaine gets to go, then we got to invite Finn." Puck said.

"No, not _Finn." _Rachel groaned this time and Kurt laughed.

"Yes!" he said evilly. "If Blaine is being invited then so is Finn."

"Do you think Santana will come?" Puck asked. "If she's in the neighbourhood?"

Kurt nodded. "Probably. That means Brittany will definitely come."

Brittany S. Pears was Santana's long term girlfriend and they went everywhere together. She was a freelance model and would sometimes help Santana out with a few of her heists if needed.

Rachel thought. "How about Sebastian?" She asked, "Would he be interested."

Kurt pulled a face. "We don't want to subject Blaine to Sebastian when he's already going to be hanging out with a whole bunch of strangers."

"Well, how about you ask some of your friends from the station to come too?" Rachel asked. "That way he won't be on his own."

Kurt nodded, thinking.

"Yeah, Artie, Emma and Will may want to come."

"Okay, so," Puck said, thinking back. "Then, the list of people we want to come will be me, you two, Finn, Anderson, Santana and Brittany, Sebastian, and..."

"Artie, Will and Emma." Kurt interjected.

"Oh, what about Mercedes?" Rachel exclaimed suddenly but Kurt shook his head and Puck did too.

Mercedes Jones was one of the girls who had gone to NYADA with them – at one point she and Puck had dated.

"Nah," Puck said. "She's in Los Angeles now, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Rachel deflated. "It's a shame, I miss her."

Kurt pulled her into a one armed hug quickly. "Me too,"

An alarm went off and Kurt brightened.

"Pizza's done!" he announced. "Go sit down, I'll bring them to you."

Thirty minutes later, all the pizza's were done and Puck was snoozing on the couch in a food coma.

"I'll go and get him a blanket and pillow." Rachel whispered to Kurt and he nodded, rising off the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.

"Okay, I'll finish up in here," He replied.

Once he had, he and Rachel put the apartment to bed and left Puck in the living room.

"Are you going to call Santana?" Rachel asked and Kurt nodded.

"Yeah, but not right now. We'll celebrate on Saturday."

Saturday was a little less than a week away.

Rachel smiled. "Okay. Good night."

"Night Rachel,"

Kurt got changed and did his usual routine in the bathroom before going to bed, shutting the door to his bedroom behind him on his way and locking it.

His first day as an official consultant without a tracking bracelet had been quite eventful all things considered.


	12. Chapter 11: Kidnap

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_Kurt got changed and did his usual routine in the bathroom, before going to bed, shutting the door to his bedroom behind him. _

_His first day as an official consultant without a tracking bracelet had been quite eventful all things considered._

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Kidnap**

"Alright, Blaine, that's enough," Kurt exclaimed from the doorway of Blaine's office.

Blaine looked up from where his head was lying on his desk and blinked.

"Wha?" He moaned, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth sleepily.

"This is the third time I've come to the office and found you asleep on your desk! You're working yourself too hard!"

Blaine shook his head and fisted his right eye tiredly, fighting a yawn.

"I don't know what," Blaine paused as the yawn fought itself out, "you're talking about," he mumbled. He knew he would be barely understandable as his words were so garbled with sleep.

"That's it," Kurt decided and pulled Blaine up from his chair easily. Blaine let him, too tired to fight against it. He pushed a Lima Bean cup into Blaine's unresponsive hands.

"Drink," Kurt ordered, grabbing Blaine's jacket from on top of his chair and dragging him out of his office.

Blaine did so and by the time they were in a cab driving away from the police station Blaine was finally awake enough to protest.

"Kurt what are you," he yawned again. "God, sorry. Kurt what are you doing?"

"_I_ am taking you away from work for the day," Kurt announced. "Look at yourself Blaine, you're working yourself half to death."

Blaine shook his head and began to protest, not getting far before a yawn cut him off once again.

"See?" Kurt said. "Now, just drink your tea and be quiet until we get there."

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked, taking a sip of his drink as he did so. "And what's in this?"

"You'll see. And _that_ is a Moroccan Gunpowder Green Mint Tea." He glanced at Blaine. "Nice, right?"

Blaine nodded, his exhaustion weaning slightly. "Delicious." he admitted. "But everything you get me is."

Kurt grinned. "I know," he looked out of the window. "Stop here," he told the driver and the driver did so, pulling over.

Kurt tossed the man a ten dollar bill and got his change before pulling Blaine out of the cab.

"Okay," Blaine said, looking around and not seeing anything special about the small square they'd pulled up next to. "Where are we?" Kurt smiled, pulling Blaine with him down an alley way and out into a small part of Central Park.

"We," he said, grinning at the immediate look of awe on Blaine's face. "Are going to see Spiegelworld's Travelling Circus."

"What?" Blaine turned to Kurt, grinning. "But I thought all the ticket's were sold out! I tried to get some a few months ago! And," he continued. "Don't they only perform in venues?"

"They're performing here every night this week," Kurt said, "It's a last minute addition to the end of their spring tour. And the tickets weren't a problem, I have a friend who works here."

Blaine nodded, letting Kurt tow him closer to the collection of big tents.

"But what are we doing here now?" He asked. "If they don't perform 'til tonight?"

Kurt grinned, pushing aside the front flap of the big tent. "We're going to be helping set up."

Blaine silently followed Kurt into the tent, looking around in awe.

The interior was massive! It could easily fit a thousand spectators and the placement of mirrors around the tent made the inside look even bigger.

But that wasn't what had turned Blaine mute.

The tight rope and trapezes for the aerial flight act was set up and the performers were practising their routine for that night's show, whilst below in the ring the animal tamers were practising their act, the aerial acrobats getting as close as ten feet above the ring.

The sight of aerial acrobats flying through the air about white horses and lions was a surreal one and it wasn't surprising that Blaine was stupefied into awe.

"Kurt!" Someone called and Blaine and Kurt turned to the entrance of the big tent, to see a shirtless and barefooted man in his early twenties, with extremely long dreadlocks, coming towards them.

"Joe!" Kurt exclaimed and, grinning, the two men hugged each other while Blaine stood looking on in confusion.

"Blaine," Kurt said, turning back to him. "This is the friend I mentioned, Joe Hart." Kurt glanced back at Joe. "Joe, this is Blaine Anderson."

"Oh, the friend who was working himself too hard!"

"Just Blaine is fine." Blaine interjected and Joe laughed.

"No worries man! Sometimes people say _I _work too hard. Which is impossible, right? I mean, I work in a circus!"

Blaine smiled uneasily as they shook hands. "Ha, yeah... It's nice to meet you Joe."

"You too, Blaine."

"Thanks for the tickets, seriously," Blaine said, sincerely. "I'm really looking forward to the show."

"You should be thanking Kurt, man, not me. He's the one who thought of it in the first place."

Blaine looked at Kurt, who was glaring at Joe. "He's right, Kurt." Blaine said. "Thank you,"

Kurt smiled at him, still shooting a mad look at Joe every now and then. "No problem, Blaine." and then he laughed. "I'm not too sure you'll be thanking me after we get through with helping out here today."

Blaine grinned. "I'm sure we'll have a ton of fun."

He wasn't wrong. They did.

First of all they helped set up the trapeze, which to be fair wasn't all that fun considering how much hard work it was.

"How long have the circus been here?" Blaine panted out, his boxing muscles from high school (a hobby he continued even then, he had a bag hanging in the spare room of his apartment which he used regularly) straining as he lifted a heavy metal pole above his head to pass up to one of the crew workers on a higher rail of the ladder he was standing below. "Wouldn't they have set this all up before hand?"

Kurt shook his head where he was, way up above helping the workers set up the riggings for the trapeze. "No, this is the first day. They arrived here late last night, Joe told me when I was setting this up," he called down. "They don't set up when it's dark, it's too dangerous."

"I thought nothing was too dangerous for those in the circus." Blaine joked, passing off the last of the metal poles and then pausing to wipe off his forehead with his forearm.

Kurt laughed, straightening as they finished up in the riggings. "That's what they would have you believe." He agreed.

After that they helped wash out the cages of the animals.

"I thought its illegal now for animals to be used in circuses." Blaine commented as he mopped down the floor of the lion pen. Thankfully the lion wasn't in it, they had all the animals out in the ring, going through acts.

"You thought?" Kurt commented, pausing to blow some hair out of his eyes. Blaine tried not to eye his arms, which for once were bare as Kurt had shucked his suit jacket earlier on when the work began too strenuous to leave the designer jacket unscathed from sweat. The muscles that Kurt turned out to have were extremely familiar and Blaine tried hard not to think why.

"You're a detective," Kurt continued. "If anything I would have thought you were sure."

Blaine snorted. "Yes, I'm a detective," He stretched to reach the corners of the pen, his shirt pulling up a little and exposing his midriff. He could have sworn he could feel Kurt eyeing him but he dismissed it as wishful thinking. "However," he continued. "I'm in white collar crime, I have no idea about animal rights laws."

Kurt grinned, sitting back on his haunches and bending backwards, stretching his back from where it had locked when he was cleaning.

"Fair enough," Kurt allowed, "It _is _illegal if you don't have a permit and the animals are treated inhumanely." Kurt explained. "But Spiegelworld's circus does have a permit. Not to mention all the animals are kept in zoo's when they're not being trained or when they're not needed for a show, so it's fine."

Blaine shrugged, going back to his bucket for more water. "Well, I don't know if that's correct or not," he said. "But as I lack the knowledge required I'll just let it go."

Kurt snickered. "Yeah, that'd be best."

After cleaning out the animal pens they helped feed them. Then they helped to check all the lights.

Blaine became confused however, when throughout the day more and more of the circus hands would stop and chat to Kurt, or would wave to him as he walked by.

"Okay, what am I missing?" He asked Kurt as they walked to the food tent for lunch. "Why do all of these people seem to know you?"

Kurt laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because... they kind of do." He admitted, sighing at Blaine's look of confusion and took a breath to explain.

He shook his head slightly. "I worked with Spiegelworld's whenever they were in New York. At first because I needed the money to pay for NYADA and then when I had enough just because I liked it. After spending all that time here people around here got to know me and were used to seeing me around."

Blaine nodded, taking in the fact that Kurt used to work in the _circus. _

"And that's how you know Joe?" He asked.

"Yeah," Kurt said, grinning.

"You're just full of surprises," Blaine remarked as they entered the food tent.

"You better believe it," Kurt laughed, slightly uneasily.

It was a few hours later when he and Kurt were going to go to their seats, the crowd beginning to file in for the show, only to be stopped when Joe came running up to them urgently.

* * *

"Kurt!"

At the sound of his name Kurt turned around.

"Joe?" Kurt asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Kitty fainted an hour or so ago," he said urgently, "and can't do the show."

Kitty was one of the main aerial acrobats who was meant to be performing that evening and she and Kurt had been close when he was with the circus.

"Well, can't one of the circus hands do it?" Kurt asked, eyes pinched in confusion. "They should have picked up on some of the aerial routines when working here."

Joe snorted, shaking his head. "Not everybody is like you, Kurt." he retorted, "We're not all a jack of all trades."

Kurt laughed whilst Blaine spluttered behind them.

"What set is it they've lined up to do tonight?" Kurt asked.

"It's one of your old ones," Joe said, bouncing up and down as he looked about in panic.

Kurt knew Joe would still have had to get everything for his act prepped and put on his costume and make up, so he understood why he was in such a hurry.

"Black bird?" Kurt guessed and Joe nodded, glancing from side to side.

"Yeah, I think so. Your old costume should still be stored here some where,"

Kurt nodded. "I'll get Sunshine to help me look for it, she normally has everything done by now."

Joe sighed. "Okay, thanks Kurt."

Kurt laughed. "It's not a problem, seriously."

Joe smiled, before turning anxious. "And you're still practised enough? You won't get hurt?"

Kurt snorted. _Considering these are the kind of aerials I use when breaking into an art gallery or museum I highly doubt I'm out of practise, _Kurt thought.

"I'll be okay." He said and Joe grinned.

"Alright then." He said, "Sunshine will tell you when you guys are on,".

"See you Joe," Kurt said and Joe nodded, running off immediately in the direction of the animal pens.

"Kurt?" Came from behind him.

Kurt turned and grimaced. _Ah, Blaine. _

"Blaine." he said, wincing.

"So, you used to do the trapeze when you were here?" Blaine asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Kurt admitted. "For the first couple of months or so I just helped out, doing odd jobs. Then Kitty saw me watching her during one of her sets and offered to teach me some stuff." He shrugged. "Then I started doing some of the shows,"

Blaine shook his head.

"Is that something you put on your résumé?" He asked, semi seriously, and Kurt laughed.

"Not really," he admitted. "Sometimes, depending on the job I'm applying for."

Blaine sighed through his nose. "We'll... discuss this in more detail later." He said, "Right now, you need to go get ready and I need to find my seat." He wrinkled his nose."Break a leg?" He offered and Kurt laughed.

"That's for the theatre," he said, lightly. "But close enough. Come into the prep tent at the end and I'll find you," He promised and Blaine nodded.

"Sure... Bye." Kurt waved as Blaine ducked into the big tent and then instantly was off to find Sunshine.

What he'd told Blaine was true, just not the full truth. What he had left out was that while he _had _been seen watching Kitty's sets he'd only been approached by her to be taught when...

* * *

_4 Years Earlier_

_"What the fuck are you doing?" Kurt heard a voice exclaim from the ground, way below where he was. _

_He took a deep breath and tensed the muscles in his forearms and stomach, using them to swing higher and harder and then looped himself around the trapeze. Finally, he came to a stop on the top of the bar, gripping it with his hands as he elevated himself vertically from the bar. _

_He ignored the gasp coming from the blonde on the ground._

_Testing himself, he lowered his arms until his chest touched the top of the bar and then raised himself once again. _

_He did this a couple of times before lifting himself on one hand and using the other that he'd left free to grip the wire supporting the trapeze. Once he had a firm grip he used it to swing himself around the wire to end up in a sitting position on the bar. _

_Now he was sitting and clutching at the wire like one would on a swing. _

_From there he let the trapeze sway backwards and forwards, aiding its movement by kicking his legs slightly. Then he allowed himself to look down. _

_Staring up at him was a short blonde, Kitty he believed her name was – he remembered watching her during the aerial acts. She was the lead trapeze worker. _

"_And... how are you doing it?" She continued, sounding less scandalised and more curious, getting over her concern for his well being now he was fairly safe._

_Kurt smiled to himself. He'd only been out of high school a year, in NYADA a couple of months and pulling cons and heists for about nine months but since then he'd gotten incredibly good at acrobatics, as they were needed in his line of work._

_He'd had a hunch he'd be good enough to work the trapeze and he'd only just gotten an opportunity to test out the theory. _

"_What does it look like I'm doing?" He asked, swinging more energetically now. _

"_It _looks,_" Kitty began, "Like a circus _hand _is playing about at being a circus _performer_." she finished, scathingly, concern underlying in her voice._

"_Well, you're not wrong." He said, jumping off of the trapeze at the top arc of the swing, executing a tumble turn in mid air and landing softly on the net below on his back. "I _am _a circus hand."_

_He laid there for a couple of seconds, getting back his breath before rolling to the side and bouncing to the ladder on one side of the net, climbing to the ground._

"But_," he continued. "I'm not '_playing around'_." He grinned, coming to a stop in front of Kitty, who was _incredibly _short. "I'd never be so reckless__." He continued, smiling. _

_She didn't smile back, instead she continued to look furious and irritated. _

"_What were you thinking?" she exclaimed. "It's incredibly dangerous for someone without proper training to work the trapeze!"_

_Kurt shrugged. "It didn't look too difficult." he remarked. "You make it look easy."_

_She sighed in frustration. "Yes, I make it _look _easy!" She exploded. "To impress the audience! But it _isn't _easy!"_

_Kurt simply shrugged again. "I didn't find it that difficult."_

_She scoffed. "Yours was an amateur execution at best." she said dully. "Although..." She looked at him, speculating. "I guess you may have potential." she considered. "You certainly have the right build and... enthusiasm."_

_She sighed, rolling her shoulders. "Would you like me to teach you how to work the trapeze _properly_? So you don't _kill _yourself?" She asked. _

_Kurt grinned. _

_"Yes, I would."  
_

_She rolled her eyes. "What's your name? I'm Kitty."  
_

_Kurt nodded. "I know who you are, Joe talks about you enough. Besides, I was a fan of yours before I came to work here, I come to see you guys perform whenever I can." _

_Her eyes widened. "You know Joe?" _

_Kurt laughed. "Yes, he likes you a lot."_

_She snorted in disgust. "I know." she looked at him, reappraising. "You're Kurt?" _

"_Yes. Kurt Hummel." _

_She hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, Joe mentioned you in passing when he insists on hanging around me and irritating me. Any way," She said abruptly. "Nice to meet you."_

"_And you, Kitty." Kurt beamed, charmingly and she rolled her eyes in disgust._

* * *

Of course since that first meeting they'd actually become pretty close and became quite fast friends. In fact Kurt even helped set Kitty and Joe up at one point – whether they were still together or not he didn't know (although he was leading towards the affirmative considering Joe seemed quite concerned about her fainting).

He found Sunshine in the tent set up adjacent to the big tent for the performers to get dressed in and to do their make up in.

"Kurt!" She exclaimed when she spotted him. She ran up to him and jumped only for Kurt to catch her and swing her around in a tight hug.

"Sunshine! You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." He said, fondly. When he set her down she looked up at him and beamed.

"I heard talk from the circus hands that you were visiting but I didn't know whether to wave it away as idle gossip, but it's true!" she exclaimed, then she hit him.

"Ow, what, what was that for?" He asked, his eyes smiling.

"You know what that was for!" she said. "I always tell you not to quote that stupid song but you still do it, every time you see me!"

"I can't help it!" Kurt said, in defence. "You can hardly blame me, your parents actually _named _you Sunshine, it's not even your circus name! It's the only thing I can think of when I see you."

Sunshine glared. "You'll never change." Getting over it, she brightened. "Is Rachel coming tonight?"

"No," Kurt said. "I brought my... colleague, Blaine Anderson along. He's been working himself too hard, I thought I'd treat him. Hey, did you hear-"

"About Kitty?" She asked. "Yeah, Joe said he was going to get someone to replace her, we need five people on the trapeze tonight and... you're the replacement aren't you?"

Kurt grinned. "Guilty," and then yelped when Sunshine hit him again.

"Were you even going to come and say hello tonight?" she demanded. "Is the fact that we need you the only reason that I'm seeing you?" She hit him again. "God damn it Kurt, I hardly ever get to see you when we're in New York!"

Kurt dodged when she moved to hit him again. "I _was _going to come and see you!" He said in his defence. "I swear! I was just busy helping out."

Her glare softened. "Fair enough. So, what do you need me for?"

"Do you mind helping me look for my costume?" He asked. "And maybe help me with my make up? I mean," he gestured to her. "You're all done."

Sunshine looked down at herself.

She was wearing a white leotard, white orange flames and gold glitter splashed across her cheeks.

"Yes, I am. And yeah, sure." She took his hand and pulled him through the tent, towards the back.

"I think it's in the big chest." He added. "Unless it's been moved."

"Oh, no," Sunshine answered without looking back. "It's been moved. We had a cleaning in between tours a few months back." Kurt nodded.

"Fair enough. Do you know where it might be?"

"Um... yes," She brightened. "I think it's with Kitty's stuff, she kind of foraged any of your things away in case you needed it."

"Oh good," Kurt said, in relief. "It shouldn't be too hard to find then."

They carried on in silence before Kurt thought to ask, "Hey, who's working the trapeze with us tonight?"

"Oh, well, it's me, obviously, you instead of Kitty, Holly and Isabelle."

Kurt whistled. "All girls then?"

"Yeah, for a few months now."

"At least I've worked with all of you before," Kurt said.

"Yeah, trust and practise is important. I've no doubt that we'll all work as seamlessly together as we used to."

Kurt smiled. "We always were good at falling back into order easily." He paused beside Sunshine as she searched through Kitty's rack of costumes. "We're doing the Blackbird tonight, right? That's what Joe told me."

"Yeah, we are." She turned to him, handing him his costume. It was almost identical to Sunshine's, apart from it was the guy version.

All the girls working the trapeze wore the white, flame embroidered spandex leotards whereas the males wore black flame embroidered spandex shorts. It was purely for aesthetics (the material it was made of for aerodynamics).

Kurt ducked behind Kitty's screen while Sunshine looked for make up.

He changed quickly and efficiently. Falling back into routine was as easy as it ever was.

"When are we on?" Kurt called and Sunshine answered back quickly.

"After the animals, so... third."

"Okay, so we have, what thirty minutes?" Kurt came out from behind the screen, his clothes folded on Kitty's dresser.

"Forty," Sunshine corrected, pushing Kurt down on the seat in front of the mirror. "The clown routine was extended by ten minutes a couple of months ago." She scooted closer to him, so she could see better. "And it was forty when the show actually started, which was about... fifteen minutes ago. So we have twenty five minutes."

Kurt nodded slightly, looking up as Sunshine put eye-liner on him.

Once she had finished that she helped paint gold body glitter on his checks, arms, chest and legs and combed it into his hair.

While she was styling his hair he screwed up his nose.

"Gah, I hate this stuff." He groaned. "It takes forever to get it all out of my hair. And washing just makes it worse, so I'll be combing it all out for weeks."

Sunshine snorted. "Months, if you're lucky. I worked it in real good."

When she was finished she booped his nose with her finger, making Kurt laugh and turned away to put the make up away.

She stood up and went to fetch his pair of cloth gymnast shoes that he used to favour when he performed. They were black with orange and yellow ribbons that were wound up his legs and tied the shoes on.

Sunshine was wearing a similar pair, apart from they were white instead of black. Kurt knew that Holly and Isabelle would be wearing the same.

Kurt finished tying up his shoes and stood up, bouncing in them experimentally on the balls of his feet.

"Perfect," he grinned and Sunshine beamed back.

"Should we go and stretch?" She asked, "I bet Isabelle and Holly are already at the bar."

The trapeze workers were required to stretch about twenty minutes before the performance, and there was a mirror and ballet bar set up in the tent for that specific purpose. There was also a balance beam to do some flips and cartwheels on to get limbered up.

Kurt nodded, knowing they would have to leave in fifteen minutes to go to the big tent and get settled in the rafters of the tent, which is where they would descend to the trapeze from rather than climbing up the ladder and not making a good entrance.

So they did so, jogging lightly to the ballet bar and balance beam, which was also part of their warm up.

Holly Holiday and Isabelle Wright were indeed already there and both beamed when they saw Kurt

"Kurt!"

"Hummel!" Isabelle and Holly exclaimed respectively.

Kurt smiled. "Hey girls. I would hug you but I'm already glittered up."

"What are you doing here?" Holly asked.

"Kitty fainted and since I was going to be watching the show anyway Joe recruited me last minute," Kurt explained, moving over to where Holly was standing at the ballet bar, putting his ankle on the bar and leaning it across to stretch his inner thigh and groin. He sighed at the stretch.

He normally kept up his stretches at home but he hadn't been able to for a couple of days.

Holly moved from the bar to the balance beam as Sunshine took her place. Isabelle was stretching on the floor.

"Yeah, I heard about her fainting." Isabelle said. "Do you know what's wrong with her? I hope she's okay."

Kurt shrugged. "I've no idea. I assumed it was lack of food and too many shows all within a short period of time."

"Didn't you think to ask Joe?" Sunshine asked, as she and Kurt switched stretches, she using the bar and he moving on to stretching his calves.

"No," he said, sighing as his knee cracked. "I was a little too caught up in making sure Blaine Anderson didn't figure out I'm a -"

"Con man," Isabelle, Holly and Sunshine chorused and they laughed whilst Kurt glared at them weakly, moving into a splits on the floor whilst Isabelle moved to his spot on the bar.

"Yes," he said. Pretty much everyone on the trapeze team knew he was Porcelain, he'd had to have some explanation to his foreknowledge on his acrobatic skills. And if they didn't know he was Porcelain, they at least knew he was a criminal.

"Wait," Holly said. "Blaine as in Blaine Anderson?"

"As in _Detective Anderson_?" Isabelle asked.

Holly swore when he nodded.

"Christ, Hummel," she said, pausing in the middle as she did a high double flip. "Since when were you and the detective pals?"

Kurt shook his head, "We're not." he assured then pulled a face as he thought back on his words. "Well we are, but I didn't seek him out or anything. I'm the criminal consultant for the White Collar Crime department."

"Hold up," Sunshine said. "So, they know about you being Porcelain?"

Kurt shook his head. "No," he said. "I got put in prison for some minor delinquency and then they recruited me."

"Well, at least there's that," Isabelle said.

"Hey, Holly, switch with me," Kurt said, withdrawing his leg from the bar, bouncing slightly to relax his muscles from the strained position they were forced to accommodate. She nodded, jumping down from the balance beam.

After executing a couple of flips and cartwheels Kurt bounded off so that Sunshine could have a go, sitting on the floor to stretch out his sides.

He was finished with his warm up about three minutes before they had to go, whilst Isabelle and Sunshine were still finishing up.

"Hummel," Holly said. "Practise some lifts?"

Kurt nodded, "Sure," and squatted with his legs spread.

Holly ran up and, using one of his knees as a boost, jumped. Kurt stood and caught her by the waist, lifting her above his head. Holly practised some of her leg work whilst he kept her elevated vertically for about a minute and then Kurt set her down again.

This was an exercise that, whilst it wasn't all that helpful in prepping for aerials, it helped Kurt prepare for catching and Holly for the leg work when she was airborne.

Whilst Kurt and the girls normally rotate roles during the performance, for instance they were all both catcher and performer, Kurt was the main catcher due to his advantage on the girls in upper body strength.

A minute later and a voice rang out from the main flap of the tent.

"Trapeze, into positions,"

Kurt dropped Holly, catching her in a bridal hold before setting her gently on the ground.

"That's us ladies." He said cheerfully, turning to give Sunshine a hand up whilst Isabelle hopped off of the balance beam.

"Did you get a chance on the beam, Sunshine?" He asked and she nodded. "Good."

Isabelle laughed, hooking her arm around Kurt's waist. "Already mothering us, and you've only been back five minutes."

Holly and Sunshine laughed too whilst Kurt just grinned.

They went into the bit tent through a flap that connects the prep tent to it by the side. The shadows at the side made it so they weren't seen by the spectators and were able to make it up to the board without being spotted. They watched the animal trainers finish up they're act and vacate the main ring.

Then the ring leader came back into the ring to announce Kurt and the girls on the flying trapeze.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He said. "You are in for a treat! For one night and one night only, one of our wandering sheep have returned to the fold. On the flying trapeze! Please give a New York welcome to the infamous _Lady!_"

Kurt stepped out onto the front of the board, out of the shadows and into the spot light and bowed to the applause of the crowd, holding up his arms in recognition.

"And don't forget," the ringleader said. "Our fantastic ladies. First of all we have," the ringleader continued, turning to the left side of the trapeze.

Kurt stepped aside to allow the Isabelle room when she was called on. He and Isabelle was on the right side of the trapeze whilst Holly and Sunshine were on the other.

"Our little ray of _Sunshine_!" The ring leader announced and Sunshine stepped out in the spotlight to the crowds approval.

"Our beautiful _Fairy Godmother_!" Isabelle stepped out into the light next to Kurt, standing close to the edge for her cue from Kurt, who was the one who sets the pace for the set considering he was the one who originally came up with it (when he wasn't there that job would fall to Kitty).

"And finally, on the left side our fantastic _Mary Todd_!" Holly came out into the spotlight, shimmying in the light and the crowd cheered.

The ringleader went on to tell the audience not to attempt what they were about to see at home and etcetera, how those doing it this evening are professionals yada yada as Kurt and the girls got into position.

There was a spotlight trained on each of them now and they would follow their specific performer throughout the act.

Kurt stepped out to the edge. "Lista?" Kurt asked, yelling so that Holly and Sunshine could hear. They were so high up that the audience wouldn't be able to hear their correspondence.

Isabelle nodded, applying chalk to her hands and arms and yelled in response. "Ready.", stepping up to her trapeze, the fly bar.

Kurt in reply said, "Hup!" and Isabelle took off from the board, swinging to and forth to the drum roll played by the circus orchestra.

When she got to the height of her swing she used the Force-outkick, immediately returning her legs to the Hollow position. When she came back in towards the bar she Swept her legs to build up the swing once more.

She carried on doing this several times to keep up her swing.

"Holly," Kurt yelled. "Fly-bar."

Holly immediately cast out her bar, casting it far, so that the swings of the bar and Isabelle's kept in time.

The pinnacles of both swings of the bars matched and so on the next swing Isabelle let go, twisting in mid air to grab the bar Holly cast out. As she did this Kurt yelled to Sunshine.

"Leta?"

"Ready!"

"Hup!"

And so on, Sunshine did the same as Isabelle. As her swing was building Kurt grabbed the catch-trap and took off, using the force out kick to build up his swing, moving his legs from the hollow position then to sweep them, building up his swing in this manner. When he deemed his swing was high enough he yelled out, "Leta," and then swung around so his legs were straddling his bar and he was dangling upside down.

"Ready?" Sunshine yelled and Kurt nodded.

"Hup!" He answered and she did, letting go to latch onto his hands and completing the catch.

The crowd clapped and whistled.

* * *

Blaine applauded as the animal trainers were led off stage.

According to the programme the trapeze performers were due to go on next, but Blaine couldn't see how that could be as he hadn't seen them climbing the ladder up to where they were supposed to set off from.

The ringleader came into the ring importantly and stopped in the middle, his head set microphone resting on his cheek as he spoke into it.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He said and Blaine felt the entire audience lean forward in anticipation. "You are in for a treat! For one night and one night only, one of our wandering sheep have returned to the fold."

Whispers broke out around him and he turned to the ladies sitting next to him, who looked to be in their thirties.

"What's the big deal?" He asked but before they could respond the ring leader continued.

"On the flying trapeze!" He exclaimed turning sideways to gesture to the left side of the trapeze (to the performers it would have been the right side). "Please give a New York welcome," the ringleader continued. "To the infamous _Lady!_"

The audience broke out in cheers as a spotlight came on to someone way up high in the ceiling of the big tent.

Blaine looked and saw Kurt step out into the spotlight, bowing and stepping up to the edge of the platform, raising his arms at the applause.

Blaine started at the sight of Kurt, shirtless, in only a pair of shorts, and shimmering in the light as specks of gold glitter covering his body shone. He was wearing what looked like ballet shoes, with ribbons tying them on as they wound up his legs.

The ladies beside him carried on clapping enthusiastically.

"I can't believe Lady is back," the woman next to him lent over to say. "We're regulars and we used to watch him all the time when he was with Spiegelworld's and he's the best of them all."

_Well, _Blaine thought. _I guess that explains the crowds enthusiasm. _

"And don't forget," the ringleader carried on. "Our fantastic ladies. First of all we have," the ringleader turned to the left side of the trapeze and a spot light came on, as a small, beautiful and exotic looking girl in her early twenties stepped out.

"Our little ray of _Sunshine!_" The ringleader announced and the crowd cheered.

Blaine clapped along politely.

_This is the Sunshine that Kurt said would help him find his costume, _Blaine thought as the ring leader turned once again to Kurt's side of the trapeze and a spot light trained on a spot next to him.

"Our beautiful _Fairy Godmother_!" A tall blonde, looking to be in her early thirties, stepped out beside Kurt, standing close to the edge of the platform and also bowing to the applause.

"And finally, on the left side our fantastic _Mary Todd_!" Another tall blonde came out onto the platform next to Sunshine. She danced a little and the crowd went wild. Blaine guessed she was one of the crowd favourites.

The ringleader then said, "Now, what you see the performers doing tonight is very dangerous for those without proper training, so do _not _attempt this at home! Lady, Fairy Godmother, Sunshine and Mary Todd _are _trained professionals and know what they're doing. So please, don't go off and attempt this on your own the next time you find the high trapeze free, okay?"

The crowd laughed at his joke, but Blaine wasn't paying attention, too focused on what was happening on the platform. Kurt and the other performers seemed to be getting into position and as music started up, he couldn't hear what they were saying up there but could see their mouths moving.

He blinked and then Fairy Godmother was off, swinging high on her bar. The next instant, at the height of her swing, she let go, turned in mid air and latched onto another bar that Mary Todd had cast out to the applause of the audience, whilst Sunshine set off as well, swinging on her trapeze in the air.

Blaine held his breath as Kurt set out, swinging in mid air.

Kurt slid around to straddle the bar with his legs and feet, now he was hanging upside down on the trapeze.

When his swing and Sunshine's were both at their greatest height at the same time Sunshine let go, twisting in the air and executing a double flip before Kurt caught her, and the crowd cheered in earnest.

Sunshine's bar was sent out again for her and Kurt tossed her to it, she twisted in mid air and caught it, going back to her side of the platform as Mary Todd set off on a trapeze.

Kurt righted himself on the bar, now hanging from his hands once again to swing back to his platform and he returned to it gracefully, to the applause of the crowd. He somehow hung his bar on something in the trapeze so it didn't swing back out and then cast out Fairy Godmothers bar for Mary Todd to latch onto on the other side.

To the cheers of the crowd there was once again two people on each side of the trapeze, only Mary Todd and Fairy Godmother had switched places.

Their act went on in this fashion for twenty five more minutes, Kurt catching the others and being caught by the others, he even executed double, triple and even quadruple flips.

When it was their time to get off the stage, they all set out on the trapeze to drop, as one, onto the safety net.

From there they dismounted the trapeze all together and, taking a final bow in the sawdust of the ring, left the big tent by disappearing into the shadows.

Blaine applauded with the rest of the audience as the next act came on and then an hour or so later, as the rest of the audience filed out of the big tent, left to go and meet Kurt.

He found him still in his costume, but sans make-up (apart from some of the gold glitter that was still in his hair).

Kurt looked up and beamed at the sight of him.

"Blaine!" He exclaimed, getting up to meet him.

"What did you think?" he asked and Blaine struggled to answer, distracted by the sight of Kurt's bare chest which he'd not seen before that day and hadn't had a good view of as he was too far away in the trapeze. It was _extremely _well defined.

"Um, your act or the whole show?" Blaine asked after a delay, looking away from Kurt's knowing smirk.

"Both."

"Well, your act was... terrifying." He admitted. "But in a good way. It was really good." He assured. "And the show was... also terrifying."

"But also in a good way?" Kurt asked, amused.

"Yes," Blaine replied, smiling.

"Good." He said. "Okay, hang around I'm just going to get changed."

Blaine nodded and sat down where Kurt had been before. Kurt walked behind a screen and Blaine could hear the rustling noise of clothes being changed.

"I want to go look in on Kitty and see if she's alright." Kurt said. "Is that okay?"

Blaine nodded and the cleared his throat, realising Kurt couldn't see him. "Sure, that's fine."

"Great," Kurt came out, changed now but still with glitter in his hair.

Blaine laughed.

"What?" Kurt asked.

"You have glitter in your hair," he informed him, still amused and Kurt nodded, hand moving up to finger a lock of it.

"Oh, yeah. No, that's fine. It's not going to come out for a few months," Kurt shrugged. "That's always the way after shows."

Blaine shook his head.

"You're completely different to what I expected when Sue first told me you were going to be my consultant, you know that, right?

Kurt smiled.

"I know,"

**A/N: I got all the terminology from wikipedia, so please none of the circus enthusists within you start a witch hunt if it's wrong :) Just tell me in a review what's wrong and I'll fix it.**

**Terminology:**

Catcher/catching**: the "catcher," who hangs by his or her knees on another trapeze, or sometimes on a cradle, which can be either stationary or also swinging, catches a performer who swings from another trapeze bar. Catching is the act made. **

Performer**: ****Person making the transition from bar to bar, is the one who gets caught and who performs the majority of the aerial stunts.**

The Board**: ****The platform on either side of the net, has different levels and are where the performers and catchers set off from on the bars. **

Listo/Lista**: Used by the flyer and/or catcher to signify that they are holding the fly bar (for a flyer) or have built enough height in their swing for a catch (for a catcher) and ready to go.  
In this instance is used by the pace maker to ask whether the flyer (performer) is ready to take off.  
**

Ready**: Used by the catcher to tell the flyer that they should leave the board momentarily. The flyer bends their knees and if executing a one-handed take-off, dips the bar so they can raise it higher when they jump off the board. **

**(In this instance is used by the flyer (performer) to confirm that they are ready to take off.)**

Hup**: Signal to leave the board and/or the fly bar. Sometimes used by the catcher to tell the flyer to let go after a catch when landing in the net. **

**(In this instance is used by the pacemaker to tell the flyer (performer) to take off from the board.)**

Fly bar**: ****Trapeze used by the flyer (performer)**

Force Out** :**** Kicking the legs out at the peak of the flyer's swing to gain height.**

Hollow**: ****Comes right after the force-out. It is basically a neutral position. **

Sweep/Swept**: ****Comes after the Hollow. Signifying kicking the legs back. **

Seven**: The last part of a force-out swing. Flyer brings legs in front of them so they will not hit the board.**

Catch-trap**: ****The trapeze the catcher swings on.**

* * *

**Now then, for you amazing people who bothered to read all of the above – a sneak peak at the next chapter!**

_Next on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_When Kurt woke that morning he was naked, curled up with a warm body in a double bed. _

_On reflex he kept his eyes shut, the dull throbbing in the back of his skull enough to let him now that should he open his eyes his headache would worsen. _

_He lay in that bed for what felt like hours, and gradually his head ache decreased. _

_Feeling the body move Kurt stirred. _

_Pulling himself closer he leant his forehead against warm, bare flesh and when he opened his eyes it was to the sight of warm, brown eyes staring into his. _

"_Kurt?" Blaine whispered and Kurt winced._

Fuck.

**Haha! I realise I'm evil :D I hope you enjoyed reading, leave me a review and tell me what you think! :)**


	13. Chapter 12: Loitering

**A/N: Okay guys! Hiatus is _officially _over! I'll be back to updating regularly every Sunday and that's a promise! Happy late 4th of July for you Americans! As I'm British I don't celebrate it but tumblr was a mad of explosion of Americanness last thursday. Enjoy the chapter! Don't forget to review and tell me what you think! **

**Ooh! Also, I'm finding myself wanting a cover for this story but I'm terrible at making stuff like that! If any of you make on that I like enough I'll give you a prize :) A one shot or something dedicated to the winner, idk. Leave a review on what you think the prize should be!**

* * *

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_Blaine shook his head. _

"_You're completely different to what I expected when Sue first told me you were going to be my consultant, you know that, right?_

_Kurt smiled. _

"_I know,"_

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Loitering**

"So," Kurt finished, "Kitty's pregnant, which is why she fainted, too much stress with the show _and _the baby. She and Joe got engaged sometime last year when the circus was in Kansas."

"I still can't believe you went back to Spiegelworld's without telling me," Rachel said, ignoring what Kurt had said.

She and Kurt were laying on the sofa together, watching West Side Story for the umpteenth time so she could prepare for her callback.

"Scratch that," Rachel continued, elbowing Kurt in the side. "I can't believe you went back to Spiegelworld's without _taking _me!"

Kurt shrugged, rubbing his smarting side absently as he was engrossed in the film. "Well, Blaine already had a shit ton of questions for me as it was," he winced as Rachel elbowed him again in reproach for swearing. "And bringing you along would probably have just invoked more than anything else."

Rachel sighed melodramatically. "I suppose. But still, I've not seen you perform in _years."_ She turned to him. "You know the entire circus community is still talking about it." She scoffed in disgust. "You're my best friend and I _missed _it. It's embarrassing."

Kurt turned to Rachel in return, the film momentarily forgotten . "Rachel, believe it or not that outing was not about you," he reminded her. "It was about Blaine and getting him to take a break. Which it did."

She groaned, tipping back her head and banging it repeatedly on the back of the sofa.

"I guess." She said, reluctantly. "Hey," she lifted her head to look at him. "Did you ask Santana and Brittany about Saturday yet?"

Kurt nodded. "I did. And," he added. "We're in luck, they're coming to New York for a brief stint any way so they're in."

Rachel was asking whether Santana and Brittany could come to dinner with them and then bowling in a few days, something they'd organised in celebration of Rachel's callback.

"Ooh, what about Blaine?" Rachel asked and Kurt smiled.

"I asked him, Emma and Will a few days ago, and they're in too." His smile widened as he remembered Blaine's reaction.

* * *

"_Am I going to have to go out with your brother again?" Blaine asked warily, as he scooped some pasta up on his fork and plopped it into his mouth. They were in the cafeteria at the police station and it was lunch time. _

_Kurt snorted as Emma swatted the detective's arm in reproach at his rudeness. _

"_No," Kurt assured, in amusement. "I'm fairly certain you're safe in that respect. Although, you _are_ going to be meeting mine and Rachel's friend Sebastian Smythe, so be prepared for that."_

_Sebastian had confirmed in being able to go the day before, which was great but also terrifying when considering the possibilities on what he could say to Blaine, Emma, Will and Artie.  
_

_Blaine stilled, his next forkful of food pausing momentarily on the way to his mouth. "Is this the same Mr Smythe who you ran into naked during your first week attending NYADA?" He asked and Kurt groaned. _

"_I can't believe you remember that," he moaned. "I'm going to _kill _Rachel."_

"_I take it that's a yes." Blaine grinned and Will looked at the two in confusion._

_Emma decided to voice it. "Um, what's this about running into men naked?" She asked and Kurt groaned, banging his head on the table.  
_

"_Between Rachel and Sebastian," he murmured. "I'm sure you'll be told the full story at least once on the night." _

"_Well then," Will said, grinning. "If only for that, we _have _to go." Kurt groaned again and Emma laughed. _

_Blaine nodded. "I, for one, feel like I _have _to see this," He announced, grinning. "Count me in too,"_

* * *

"Okay," Rachel responded. "So, so far the people who's coming are-"

"-Me, you, Puck, Emma, Will and Blaine," Kurt interrupted, listing the names. "And Artie told me he could come today. Also," He added. "Santana, Brittany and Sebastian are coming."

Rachel nodded. "Yes, so all we have left to invite is..." She groaned, tipping her head back and banging it once again whilst Kurt grinned.

"Finn," Kurt said.

"_Please _can we not invite Finn?" Rachel begged and Kurt shook his head.

"No, if Blaine's coming – which he is," he said, smugly, "– then Finn's coming too."

Rachel moaned.

"And I'm not inviting him this time," Kurt said, smirking evilly. "No, Rachel, this time that is _all _yours."

* * *

Kurt didn't know how the invite went down, but Rachel invited Finn and Finn agreed to come. And since then for some reason the mention of Finn's name didn't make Rachel so mad and Kurt was intrigued as to why that was.

It was on the Saturday then, five days after they'd initially came up with the idea, that everybody met outside Bread-sticks to have dinner. Kurt and Rachel were the first people there. They'd been there for ten minutes and no body had arrived.

"We did say seven, right?" Rachel asked Kurt and he nodded, glancing down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah."

"Yes, you did," Came a voice from behind them. Kurt and Rachel turned to grin at the sight of a man in his late twenties, taller than both of them with neat, short black hair and a pointed – yet handsome - face.

"Sebastian!" Rachel exclaimed and hugged him, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"Rachel, you look lovely," Sebastian said, smoothly and Kurt snorted.

"Emma, Will and Blaine will be arriving soon," Kurt said, "You can pull that crap with them."

Sebastian smiled. "I always forget that-"

"That you taught me everything I know about smooth talking people and consequently I know when you're trying to charm Rachel, subsequently pulling one over on her?" Kurt interjected, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, you seem to do that often."

Rachel shook her head, coming in between them gently. "Boys," she chided. "I know you're friends _really, _so calm down."

Kurt snorted and shook his head. "You always like to ruin our fun." He said, amused and Sebastian cracked a smirk.

"Well, we three _are_ creatures of the dramatics." He said, "She knows when we're just trying it on."

Kurt smiled warmly. "Sebastian," he said. "It _is_ good to see you again, joking aside."

"You too Kurt."Sebastian grinned. "Been up to your usual tricks I hear." Kurt decided to ignore the quip that was most likely referring to Blaine.

The two men embraced and Kurt backed away when Sebastian tried to cop a feel of his ass.

"Sebastian," he said in warning and they pulled apart, Sebastian grinning charmingly, not a bit put out.

"I know I know, sorry. It was too good an opportunity to pass up." he said, holding up his hands apologetically, the shine in his eyes contradicting it's apparent sincerity. "From this moment on I'll be on my best behaviour."

Kurt snorted. "That _would_ be best," he said, pointedly. "Considering _some_ of our company aren't used to you."

"Not to mention," Rachel added. "Blaine's most likely going to see through all your attempts at manipulation. He's used to Kurt after all."

Sebastian nodded. "Ah, yes. Detective Anderson. I'm sure I'm capable of handling him. Also, Mulder and Scully," Kurt snorted at the obscure X-Files reference (and Sebastian's assumption that he'd be capable of taking on Blaine), "And a Mr Artie Abrams?" Sebastian finished, glancing at Rachel for verification.

"Yes, that's right." Rachel said, beginning to look concerned. "Keep in mind that a slip up from you, from any of us really, could ruin the good thing Kurt has going at the NYPD so please, _please _behave yourself."

Sebastian took a step back, pulling his hands out of his suit pant pockets in a defensive gesture. "Hey, I already said I will!"

"Even if he doesn't, I'll be here to make sure he keeps in line,"

The trio turned, and Kurt smiled at the sight of Santana and Brittany walking up to them, arms linked.

"Satan." Sebastian said in acknowledgement before stepping forward and pressing a kiss on Brittany's cheek. "And the beautiful Miss Pierce. It feels like it's been an age since I last saw you two lovely ladies."

Santana snorted, pushing past Sebastian to hug Rachel and Kurt. "Yeah, because you've been avoiding me for the past few years, Sebby."

Sebastian shrugged, returning to Rachel and Kurt's side. "Well, considering I _did _abandon you to the mercy of the French Police-"

"Santana's really smart," Brittany interrupted, innocently as she hugged Kurt and Rachel in greeting. "She knows not to trust you, Basty."

"Exactly," Santana said, re-linking arms with Brittany. "I knew you'd double cross me at some point, it hardly came as a surprise when you did. So really, you've just been hiding for no reason these last few years."

Sebastian shrugged, smiling smoothly. "Well, it's like I always say. It's better to be safe than sorry."

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Smythe."

Puck walked up to them, his hands in his pockets.

"Puckerman," Sebastian greeted and the two hugged quickly, embracing for the length of time deemed acceptable for two male friends. "Thank God a kindred spirit is here tonight," Sebastian remarked once they'd parted.

"I know what you mean, man." Puck said, shaking his head in mock disgust. "These lot are far too straight laced for criminals. Seriously,"

Rachel lifted a hand slightly. "I'm actually _not_ a criminal," she said. "And neither is Brittany." she added and Brittany nodded.

"We do help criminals though," Brittany said, as matter of fact as always.

Rachel nodded, conceding the point. "Not to mention you could hardly call _Santana _straight laced,"

"I'm not a criminal either," Sebastian interjected before Puck or Santana could remark on Rachel's comment. Kurt shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. "What?" He asked, sounding insulted. "I'm not! I'm a fencer, that hardly counts!" Kurt snorted.

"Believe me, Sebastian," he said, dryly. "It counts."

"Speaking of you, Tana," Puck said, ignoring Kurt and Sebastian's interaction, grinning and moving to pick Santana up in a hug and spin her. "I've not seen you in ages."

Santana laughed, taking a few steps back so she could see into his face. "Yeah, not since '09, " she agreed.

"Seriously," Kurt interjected, looking around at his friends. "We need to meet up more often."

Everybody murmured in agreement.

Rachel looked around at everyone and then, frowning, glanced down at her watch.

"It's twenty past." She commented and Kurt nodded, looking up and down the street.

"Yeah, Finn, Blaine, Emma, Artie and Will are-"

"Twenty minutes late," Finn said, walking up with the other late comers in tow. "We know, sorry."

Artie raised a hand in recognition. "My fault," he said, unashamed. "The cabs in New York are, unsurprisingly, not very sympathetic or helpful when you're in a chair."

Kurt nodded, smiling and moving forward to take over wheeling Artie from Will, so he could say hi. Will went to link hands with Emma and Blaine went to walk beside Kurt whilst Finn stayed with Emma and Will.

"Okay, lets go inside," Kurt said, "We can introduce ourselves there."

Rachel nodded, pulling her coat closer to herself as she shivered slightly. Then to Kurt's, and every one else's, immense surprise Finn loped forwards to link hands with her as they led the way in.

Kurt called to Santana over his shoulder in bemusement. "Who wins?" Santana snorted. "Did they even sleep together, yet?"

"You can't be too sure, Hummel." She replied. "They may have slept together before getting together."

The sound of money exchanging hands however could be heard behind him and Kurt looked over his shoulder to see Sebastian pass Brittany money.

"Brittany!" Kurt exclaimed and she shrugged, pocketing it.

"What?" She said. "He was stupid enough to make the bet in the first place."

Kurt, Blaine and Santana laughed while Will, Emma and Artie just looked confused.

Kurt went to explain, turning Artie's chair to manoeuvre it through the doorway. "Finn and Rachel have been tiptoeing around each other and their feelings for years," he began.

"Since high school," Santana interjected, as she and Brittany entered the building behind Kurt, Artie and Blaine and went ahead to follow Rachel and Finn to their table.

"Yes, thanks Tana." Kurt called after her, sarcastically, " Anyway, we've all had bets on when they got together or when they would... er submit to the sexual tension between them and-"

"Fuck like monkeys?" Emma offered to the shock of the group. "What?" she asked, looking around. "I can be vulgar."

Kurt shook his head in amusement. "Yeah, anyway. Santana and I bet when they'd succumb and since we have no idea when they actually did neither of us have won. However,"

"Britt and I," Sebastian continued, ignoring the glare Kurt gave him for rudely interrupting. "Bet on when they'd start to display public affection." he sighed, shaking his head. "And she won."

Santana laughed when she heard this, Kurt's group having caught up to them and she reached over to hold Brittany's hand. "Well, that's your own fault." She said. "You bet against the genius."

Kurt parked Artie in the spot the management cleared for his chair at the table and he and the others sat down – Blaine sitting on his left whilst Emma was situated to his left, Will sitting next to her.

"Okay," Kurt started. "Since I'm the only one here who actually _knows _everybody here, I'll make the introductions.

"To my right," he began, poking Blaine in the stomach and grinned when he made him jump in surprise, "Is Blaine Anderson," he emphasised Blaine's last name slightly, looking around at his friends so they got the point.

Blaine Anderson as in _Detective _Blaine Anderson.

"And to my left is Emma, soon to be," he moved on to Will, "Will's wife."

A quick pause for everybody around the table to offer their congratulations and then Kurt carried on.

"Next to Will," Kurt said. "Is my step brother, Finn."

"Next to me," Finn continued, and Kurt rolled his eyes at Finn's disregard for what he'd said before making introductions. "Is Rachel, Kurt's room mate and the reason we're all here tonight."

Rachel beamed at everyone and Kurt shot Santana a meaningful look at the sight of Rachel and Finn's joint hands on the table top.

She shot one back at him in return and he snickered into his palm.

"Next to me," Rachel said. "Is Puck."

"And this is Sebastian," Puck introduced, elbowing the man in question.

"Ack," he said, wincing slightly, sending Puck an amused look. "Um, this is Brittany, Santana's girlfriend." Sebastian introduced.

Brittany smiled. "This is my dolphin, Santana." She said and Santana smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to her lips quickly.

"Hey, Kurt." Artie whispered and Kurt turned to him. "Why does she call Santana a dolphin?"

Brittany, however, heard him.

"Because dolphins are gay sharks." Brittany explained, like it was obvious.

Seeing Artie was still confused Santana interrupted. "And I'm gay," she said and Artie let out a small oh of understanding.

"And I'm Artie," Artie finished up the introductions.

Small conversations started up around the table as the group looked at their menu's.

"Hey, Kurt." Emma said, smiling slightly at the sight of Kurt and Blaine's interaction.

"Yes, Emma?" Kurt replied, still smiling at a joke Blaine had made as he turned to look at her.

"What did Blaine mean a couple of days ago, about the naked men and Sebastian?" she asked and Rachel, who had over heard, laughed.

"Oh my god," she said, giggling. "Okay, every one quiet, shh." She waved at everyone, turning to Sebastian as everyone quieted.

"Sebastian, you tell them." She said, grinning.

"Tell them what?" He said, having not heard what Emma had asked Kurt.

"About how you and Kurt met." she said, rolling her eyes at his inattention and he laughed.

"Oh this is a great story." Sebastian said, smirking as he turned to address the table as a whole, as most people hadn't actually heard the first hand account.

"Okay, so it was during Kurt's first month at NYADA, which was where he went for University." Sebastian began as Kurt shrunk back in his seat, burying his head in his hands in mortification as Blaine laughed at what he knew was to come.

"I was a teacher there," he snorted at the rest of the groups surprised looks, as he was only a few years older than Kurt, "It was my first year as a teacher," he explained dismissively. "And it was coming towards the end of the lunch period. Kurt," he continued, turning towards him in question. "If I remember correctly, had booked out one of the dance studios for two hours. He'd had a free period before lunch and so it was towards the end of lunch that he was showering so he could actually get some food."

Sebastian leant forward. "Now then, as it was his first month in NYADA and all new students went through a hazing of some sort," some of those sitting around the table began to laugh, guessing what was to come. "Kurt went through it too. So he was finishing up his shower, and then reached for his towel and clothes."

"But," Sebastian continued, grinning as Puck's booming laughter erupted from his chest. "They weren't there, some students had seen him go in to the shower and, knowing he was a first year, took them."

"But that wasn't the end of the prank." Rachel interrupted, taking over momentarily, grinning.

"No, it wasn't," Sebastian agreed, smirking. "Kurt had ventured out of the shower, looking for something to cover himself up with as his phone had been in his trousers and he couldn't call Rachel to bring him some clothes."

Sebastian snorted, laughing in remembrance. "Somehow, the kids who had taken Kurt's clothes had managed to convince some band students to chase Kurt the instant he'd ventured out of the changing rooms. Not realising quite what was going on he'd chosen to just run."

Soon every body was laughing as they pictured a naked and wet Kurt running away from some kids with musical instruments in terror, covering up his junk.

"An-" Sebastian snorted, "Anyway," he continued, calming down enough to continue. "I was leaving my classroom, going to get food after finishing preparing for my next lesson and then bam!" He exclaimed. "Was slammed into by a naked Kurt," He coughed, scratching his head slightly as he continued. "Um, I thought he was just hitting on me," He admitted "and, erm..."

"He pinned me to a wall and kissed me without waiting for me to explain." Kurt continued, eyes flashing as he realised this could be a small taste of vengeance for him. "It took me a couple of minutes to pry him off of me to explain."

"And-" Will got out, laughing. "And that was how you two first met?"

Sebastian nodded, grinning, already over his brief stint of embarrassment.

"Yep," he said cheerfully and that was the last straw for Blaine, who collapsed, crying with laughter.

The rest of the table, who by now had calmed down, looked at him in shock and slight concern as the other customers turned to stare at their table.

Rachel turned to Kurt.

"Kurt, um, do you want to help him?" she urged quickly, glancing at the annoyed people around them.

"Yeah, take him away and calm him down," Finn suggested.

Kurt glared at his friends, who were going to him immediately as if Blaine was his boyfriend when he was _meant _to be straight.

"Yeah, sure," He muttered, realising that protesting would just make things worse. "Order me and Blaine beers," he said, glancing at Blaine as he helped the giggling man up. "I think we're going to need them." he added.

"Come on, Blaine." he urged, leading him to the men bathrooms. "Let's calm you down."

* * *

The instant he was gone, the others all turned to each other immediately.

"Okay," Santana said. "We're all in agreement that we need to get those two to get their act together, right?"

"Yes," Emma said, turning to her enthusiastically. "I mean, it's obvious they like each other."

"Although, Blaine thinks Kurt is straight for some reason," Will said, tilting his head in confusion. "I have no idea why Kurt doesn't just correct him."

Rachel rushed to cover for Kurt. "Well, when he first started out at the NYPD he did it just to mess with Blaine," She invented. "And now I think he just feels that Blaine would be angry with him if he came clean."

"Well, what are we gonna do?" Artie asked, glancing around at everyone on the table who were all in agreement, they _had _to get Kurt and Blaine together, it was frustrating all of them.

Well, it was frustrating everyone apart from Sebastian and Brittany, who weren't all that bothered and who were talking about... water polo?

"Yeah," Santana said, ignoring her girlfriends antics fondly, "It's getting obnoxious. Don't you think, Britt?" She didn't get a response, and rolled her eyes.

"Ooh!" Rachel exclaimed. "I know!" Everyone turned to look at her.

"Okay, so we were going to go bowling after this initially, right?" she asked, looking around at everyone with shining eyes. "Well," she continued. "What if _instead _we go-"

"To a night club!" Santana finished.

"Exactly!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Berry, for once you're making sense," Santana commented, turning to see what the others thought.

"I resent that-!" Rachel began but was ignored as the others continued talking.

"Okay, so we're all in agreement?" Finn said. "We'll go to the nightclub, and get Blaine and Kurt completely drunk?"

"Yes," everyone answered, apart from Emma who looked at Will, who grabbed her hand in understanding, turning to the others.

"I think we'll sit this one out," Will said, smiling apologetically. "Em's not very good with mess and, well, a nightclub..."

"I think I'm gonna sit this out too, guys." Artie said, "I'm not too good with crowds, considering the chair."

"And if I'm there," Sebastian interjected, joining in the conversation finally. "Kurt would be too jumpy to get properly drunk, which is the objective right? So I'll leave after dinner too."

He ignored Will and Emma's confusion as to why Kurt would be jumpy if he were there and didn't say anything more.

Will nodded, offering one last bit of advice as an apology, "Blaine's a lightweight drunk, so he'll get drunk really quickly."

Rachel nodded. "Thanks Will," she clapped happily. "This is going to be so much fun."

"What is?" Kurt asked, he and Blaine sitting down at the table once more.

* * *

"Come on, Blaine." Kurt urged, pulling on his arm to lead him towards the men's bathrooms. "Let's calm you down."

When they got there Kurt got Blaine to lean against the marble counter with the sinks, going into the one cubicle in the room to get some toilet paper. He wet it under the sink and started pressing it to Blaine's forehead, to cool his flushed face down and get him to stop laughing.

It slowly began working but Kurt didn't stop, still dabbing as he looked into Blaine's eyes.

"You okay, Cupcake?" He murmured, pressing the wet paper to Blaine's forehead once more.

Blaine coughed, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm okay." He cleared his throat. "I don't know why I was laughing so hard," He admitted, tired now after the hysterics. "It wasn't all that funny, especially considering I'd already heard the story from Rachel."

Kurt wet the paper a little more and went back to patting at Blaine's forehead, soothing him.

Blaine closed his eyes and lent into the touch a little and Kurt stepped a little closer thoughtlessly.

The two men's bodies were now flush against each other.

"Well," Kurt murmured, his breath spanning across Blaine's cheek, "You have been working hard all week." He shook his head, smiling a little as he went to boop Blaine on the nose with the paper. "I'd have been surprised if you hadn't cracked at one point."

Blaine shook his head, and moved forwards to lean his head on Kurt's shoulder, still leant against the counter.

"But I don't normally get so stressed," Blaine muttered into Kurt's suit jacket. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine and lent his chin on his curls.

"There's a first time for everything," Kurt said, knowingly, rubbing Blaine's back slightly.

Blaine chuckled slightly, pulling away from Kurt to rub his eyes tiredly.

"That's true," he said and sighed, standing up properly now, bringing his and Kurt's faces closer without meaning to, their noses almost brushing.

"Ah," Kurt said, throat dry and eyes widening. "We should... get... get back..."

"Back to the table," Blaine finished, shakily taking a deep breath. "Right." He murmured, nodding his head jerkily and the two stepped away from each other at the same time, going to the door of the bathroom.

Kurt sighed in relief as they walked up to the table. _That was... extremely close. _He admitted mentally.

When they came up to the table they heard Rachel squealing, and clapping her hands.

"This is going to be so much fun!" she exclaimed.

"What is?" Kurt asked, he and Blaine sitting down simultaneously without looking at each other.

Rachel looked up at them, shocked that they were back already and Santana moved to explain.

"We talked about what to do after eating while you were gone and Rachel decided that she'd rather go to a nightclub than bowling tonight."

Kurt glanced at Blaine quickly to see him looking like a deer in the headlights.

"..."

Seeing Kurt had no response, Sebastian clapped his hands, taking it upon himself to move the conversation along before Kurt managed to talk them out of it.

"Good!" He exclaimed, smoothly. "It's decided then."

Before anyone could talk the waiter came up to the table and gave everyone their drinks.

Kurt took a swig of his beer and saw Blaine do the same.

_Tonight, _Kurt thought, _is going to get crazy._

* * *

When they left Bread-sticks several people left their group.

Sebastian, Emma, Will and Artie all left.

"I have to be in Paris by tomorrow night," Sebastian had lied seamlessly while Kurt glared at him when Blaine wasn't looking. "So I need to get an early nights sleep."

"Nightclubs aren't really our thing," Will had explained as he and Emma got into a cab.

"They're not mine either," Artie added from his seat beside Emma, Puck folding up his wheelchair and passing it through to Will.

When they were gone Sebastian said a final farewell and began walking down the street.

"Sebastian," Kurt hissed, catching his arm. "Don't you _dare_-"

Sebastian pulled him into a hug, and murmured into his ear. "It was good seeing you again, Porcelain." before pulling away and continuing to walk.

"_Sebastian,_" Kurt hissed and the man in question raised a hand in acknowledgement without turning.

Kurt cursed under his breath before returning to those of them who were left.

Rachel, Finn, Puck, Santana, Brittany and Blaine.

Kurt sighed. "So, where are we going?" He asked.

"There's a good night club I know a block away from here," Santana said, leading the way as Brittany linked pinkies with her. "It's called the Love Shack."

Kurt snorted and Blaine smiled knowingly. "Inspired name," Blaine said and Kurt shot a grin at him as they brought up the rear of the group, walking side by side.

Santana sneered at them. "I didn't say it was a five star joint," she said. "It's got booze, a dance floor and the bouncer knows me so we can get in."

Finn shrugged as Rachel slung her arms over his and Puck's shoulders. "That's all we really need." He allowed, getting it out before Rachel squealed as he and Puck straightened, their height advantage raising her in the air, swinging her between them.

Blaine bumped Kurt's shoulder with his, leaning in.

"I'll watch your back if you watch mine," he murmured and Kurt chuckled quietly.

"Deal," he whispered back and the two grinned weakly at each other in agreement.

They didn't notice the five other people in their group notice the exchange and shoot looks at each other.

The group walked to the front of the long line up the side of the clubs building.

"Zizes," Santana called to the big woman guarding the door. She turned at the sound of her name and nodded in greeting to Santana.

"Lopez," she responded, detaching the red cord and letting them through. "Haven't seen you here in a while."

"Been out of the city for a bit." Santana responded cryptically and Zizes nodded.

"Fair dos, Lopez." She moved aside so they could get in. "Have a good night you lot," She said.

"How about letting _us_ in, troll, we've been waiting hours." A weedy man at the front of the line shouted.

Zizes turned to give him hell but before she could Puck was there, picking the guy up by the neck of his shirt, his muscles from being a hitman bulging.

"Hey," he growled into the terrified man's face. "You got a problem with Zizes, you settle it with me."

He threw the man to the ground and joined the others, who had waited for him in the doorway, the music from the club pulsing out from beneath the cracks of the door.

Zizes nodded at Puck. "Respect," she said, reluctantly. "But I can fight my own battles." she added.

Puck nodded, face hard. "Believe me, Zizes." He muttered. "That's a battle I would have taken pleasure in fighting."

Zizes nodded. "What's your name?" She asked and Puck paused.

"Puck." He said.

"You're alright." she said after a delay and Puck smirked.

"Right back at-cha, Zizes" he responded.

"Come on, Puckerman," Santana called. "You gonna keep us waiting here all night?"

"I'm coming!" Puck yelled in response, turning back to Zizes. "See you around," He said, eyes lingering before joining the others.

"What was _that_?" Kurt asked Puck quietly when he rejoined their group, smirking slightly in amusement.

Puck shrugged. "Zizes wants me," he said nonchalantly and Kurt snorted.

The group went in the doors, but not before they heard Zizes shout, "Get your ass out of here Israel and don't let me see you around here again." to the approval of the others waiting in the line.

Santana and Puck immediately disappeared to the bar, with Brittany following, and Finn and Rachel to the dance floor, leaving Blaine and Kurt alone.

Kurt took a deep breath - letting his jacket slip off his shoulders and, after waiting for Blaine to do the same, took it from him and put them in the closet where other clubbers had deposited theirs – then he cracked his neck, turning to Blaine.

"We're going to need some shots," Kurt said and Blaine nodded, looking at the jam packed dance floor with a slightly queasy expression on his face.

"I'm going to need at least three before going in there willingly," Blaine commented dryly and Kurt snorted, looking around the club quickly before hailing a passing shots girl.

"Three," he requested, getting out his wallet before adding, "Each."

They sat down at a table, facing each other with their shots.

"Okay," Kurt said, shaking his head in anticipation. "You ready for this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly as he shot Blaine a concerned look. He knew Blaine didn't get drunk very often, whereas he could take three shots in a row semi easily - he'd had enough experience.

"On the count of three?" Blaine offered, picking up his first shot.

Kurt nodded, picking up his as well and clinked it against Blaine's.

"Cheers," he muttered, swallowing once in preparation for the burning liquid he was about to pour down his throat _willingly_.

Blaine smiled. "One, two, _three_," he said quickly, downing his first shot and then, following Kurt's lead, immediately downed the next two one after the other.

"Gah!" He exclaimed, shaking his head and blinking quickly against the tears the alcohol caused before slamming his shot glass down on the table. He looked up to see Kurt standing, undoing the first three buttons of his shirt and loosening his tie.

Blaine stood and copied him, leaving his bow tie on and all his shirt buttons done up. He undid his cuffs, rolling up his long shirtsleeves. He took care not to ogle Kurt's bare arms (his shirt was short sleeved) and then, after mussing his hair, followed Kurt into the dancing fray of people.

They quickly found their group, all dancing in the middle of the floor and when Kurt and Blaine joined them they cheered.

Finn and Rachel were dancing together, as were Santana and Britt. Puck had quickly found himself a willing partner out of the numerous scantily clad, alcohol weakened women in the club and so Kurt and Blaine were the only ones left without someone to dance with in their group.

Shrugging carelessly Kurt spontaneously pulled Blaine in, resting his hands on his hips, the alcohol he'd consumed at Bread-sticks and the three shots he'd taken not a minute before helped him to think that it was a good idea and not a horrendously stupid one to dance with Blaine in the middle of a musky night club, especially considering they'd both been drinking.

Without a seconds hesitation, his inhibitions taken away after the shots, Blaine followed suit and let his hands rest on Kurt's hips in turn. Soon, the two stopped thinking, grinding and thrusting and dancing in the midst of the other people, moving to the rhythm of the beat and the pace set by the other dancers happily.

Songs blurred and soon the beginning of a new song stopped registering, the continuous beat of music enough for the two to keep up their continuous dancing, Finn, Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Puck and his mystery girl all dancing along right next to them.

After a while a circle broke out in the middle of the dance floor with Santana and Brittany left dancing in the middle, and with the way they were dancing you'd have thought that they were starring in a dance film instead of having fun in a night club.

Kurt pulled Blaine into the circle after him, joining the girls, and the crowd cheered. Santana moved to dance with Kurt and Brittany twirled in Blaine's arms.

After an hour or so without a pause in dancing Blaine dragged Kurt off the dance floor to get another drink.

"What do you want?" Blaine asked, grinning as he panted, his hair loose from gel now with the sweat that had run into it and he shook his head energetically, droplets flying off sporadically as he did so. When he did so Kurt was taken aback, suddenly seeing the Blaine he'd slept with on the night he and Puck visited the strip club as Blaine's hair was now a mess of curls and, ignoring the foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach with the help of the alcohol already in his system, replied.

"Anything," He yelled over the music and a second later Blaine pushed a glass of _something _in his hands.

He downed it and began tugging Blaine towards the dance floor once more.

Blaine downed his drink too, setting the glass on a table as they passed it, and they wormed their way into the middle of the crowd - once again joining the mad gyrating mob of people on the floor.

Kurt had forgotten he was meant to be pretending to be straight hours before and Blaine had forgotten he thought Kurt was straight not long after that so when Blaine latched his mouth onto Kurt's in the midst of the crowd neither were surprised and both dedicated themselves to the kiss wholeheartedly, Blaine's mouth moving to Kurt's neck when they needed to breathe and back again once they'd had long enough a pause.

At about one in the morning, four hours after leaving Bread-sticks and three hours and thirty seven minutes after first entering the club, Kurt and Blaine left, stumbling together in a mad reliving of the night they'd shared a few months before.

They tumbled into a cab, they tumbled into Blaine's building, into the elevator, into his apartment and eventually into his bed, skin pressing against skin and clothes left abandoned, strewn across the apartment (their two suit jackets forgotten in the club but thoughtfully grabbed by their friends when they left).

* * *

When Kurt woke that morning he was naked, curled up with a warm body in a double bed.

On reflex he kept his eyes shut, the dull throbbing in the back of his skull enough to let him now that should he open his eyes his headache would worsen.

He lay in that bed for what felt like hours, and gradually his head ache decreased.

Feeling the body move Kurt stirred.

Pulling himself closer he leant his forehead against warm, bare flesh and when he opened his eyes it was to the sight of warm, brown eyes staring into his.

"Kurt?" Blaine whispered and Kurt winced.

_Fuck._

* * *

**A/N: Hehe :D I feel a bit bad leaving you guys with this _horrible _cliff hanger, especially considering it's what I left you with last time. Sooo... Here's a little sneak preview of the next chapter :D**

* * *

_Next time on A Game of Cat and Mouse: _

_Kurt's eyes flew open when Blaine rolled on top of him, using his legs to keep his weight off of Kurt's lithe form and avoid crushing him into the mattress.  
_

_"Are you straight?" He demanded and Kurt shook his head in confusion, bucking slightly in an attempt at getting Blaine off of him and his mind swan in further confusion when he felt Blaine's hardness against his thigh. _If he's angry, _Kurt thought, _surely he wouldn't be turned on?

_"No, I'm gay." Kurt admitted, deciding that surely his cover was now well and truly _blown _he could be honest, only to widen his eyes as Blaine began leaning down. "What are yo-_mph!_" Kurt's question was swallowed by Blaine's mouth as his lips were caught in a frenzied kiss._


	14. Chapter 13: Mark

**(A/N: Hi guys :) Chapters are going to get increasingly shorter now, sorry :) But I hope you enjoy this chapter :D Hopefully it's worth the wait.)**

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_When Kurt woke that morning he was naked, curled up with a warm body in a double bed.  
Pulling himself closer he leant his forehead against warm flesh and when he opened his eyes it was to the sight of warm, brown eyes staring into his. _

"_Kurt?" Blaine whispered and Kurt winced. _

Fuck.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Mark**

Blaine was obviously fully aware of the events of the night before.

Kurt groaned, rolling over onto his back.

"Shit," he moaned, not sparing a thought for the man in the bed next to him, that could hear every word. "Not again." He carried on cursing himself mentally and didn't pause except to furtively check on Blaine's reaction.

He glanced over at Blaine and groaned again at the sight of Blaine's slack jaw, closing his eyes as he cursed himself.

_Fuck,_ Kurt thought, slightly hysterical. _Now he's remembering the one night stand. _

"It _was _you," Kurt heard Blaine breathe and he groaned once more.

_I am _so _screwed,_ Kurt accepted mournfully and took a deep breath, gathering courage so that he could respond.

"If," Kurt said, with his eyes screwed tightly shut, "You're referring to when we slept together after drinking half the bar at a strip club," Kurt remarked, wincing at the wording, "Then you'd be right."

Kurt grimaced at Blaine's silence, keeping his eyes closed resolutely.

When the silence persisted longer than a minute Kurt started panicking.

_He could be remembering any number of things, _Kurt thought, hysterically, not pausing when he felt the bed dip a little beside him. _For all I know he's making the connection and the next thing I know he's going to be handcuffing me to the bed before calling for back up-_

Kurt's eyes flew open when Blaine rolled on top of him, using his legs to keep his weight off of Kurt's lithe form and avoid crushing him into the mattress.

"Are you straight?" He demanded and Kurt shook his head in confusion, bucking slightly in an attempt at getting Blaine off of him and his mind swam in further confusion when he felt Blaine's hardness against his thigh. _If he's angry, _Kurt thought, _surely he wouldn't be turned on?_

"No, I'm gay." Kurt admitted, deciding that since surely his cover was now well and truly _blown _he could be honest, only to widen his eyes as Blaine began leaning down. "What are yo-_mph_!" Kurt's question was swallowed by Blaine's mouth as his lips were caught in a frenzied kiss.

Kurt closed his eyes again as he gripped the nape of Blaine's neck, twisting his fingers into the curls there without thinking about it and then he used his grip to pull Blaine down further when the man in question swiped his tongue lightly against his bottom lip, breaking his resistance effectively with just one motion.

It was their first real kiss, at least the first kiss they could remember and weren't intoxicated during and, if Kurt was going to be completely honest, it more than lived up to the hazy memories he had of them doing it other times, the night before and that night so long ago.

The kiss turned soft and slow and Kurt began to remember he should be protesting, even as Blaine kept on kissing him resolutely.

"Blaine," Kurt managed to get out, as Blaine pressed kiss after to kiss to his lips.

He pulled away and was able to spit out the next word in his protest, even as he tried to remember it. "Your" was what he said next but once again was interrupted, this time when Blaine pressed a kiss to the corner of Kurt's lips. "Morning breath," Kurt gasped, aware that he now sounded like he was just uttering random words. Blaine caught his lips in his once more, tugging on Kurt's lower lip a little painfully before letting go of it. Taking this opportunity Kurt got out, "Is really," before Blaine's tongue was inside his mouth, running over the roof of it. Kurt bit him softly as it tickled and when Blaine withdraw Kurt finally managed to pant out the last part of his sentence. "Really unpleasant," he finished, breathing in the blessed oxygen Blaine had denied him before deeply.

Smiling slightly Blaine shook his head and ducked down to begin nuzzling his nose in the joint between Kurt's neck and collar bone.

Somehow he'd managed to understand what Kurt was trying to say and Kurt tried to quench the warm feeling that brought up in him, trying to remain cautious even though Blaine seemed completely determined to make up their lax memory of the night before, whether he was willing or not.

"Don't care," Blaine murmured against Kurt's skin, tongue slipping out to taste it quickly before darting back into his mouth, to Kurt's shock, causing an aroused shudder to go through him.

"_I_ do," Kurt breathed, stomach squirming at Blaine's touch and his mind spinning as he marveled at the situation he'd found himself in that morning.

He was still panicking at the fact that Blaine could realise he was Porcelain _at any moment. _

Blaine chuckled and Kurt's stomach fluttered at the sound.

"I really don't think you get a say in this," Blaine murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of Kurt's neck and pulling up to look at his face once again.

"Especially," Blaine said, rubbing their noses together to get at Kurt's lips again. "After making me think you were _straight", _another pause for a kiss before Blaine broke away, "for the last _four months_ we've been working together." He finished sternly before ducking back down to nuzzle at Kurt's neck once again.

Kurt still couldn't believe that Blaine wasn't more angry about that and he took a moment to let what Blaine had said sink in.

Once it had he conceded that "I guess you have a point," cautiously.

Blaine chuckled before rolling aside suddenly to reach into the drawer in his bedside table.

"Here," he said, and once Kurt had a hand free of the sheets he pushed something smooth and silky into it.

Kurt tucked an arm behind his neck to prop up his head and used his other hand to dangle what Blaine had given him in front of his face to see what it was as Blaine had laid his head on his chest and refused to move so he couldn't get up to see it more effectively.

"My tie," Kurt murmured, eyes following the tie's swinging movements blearily. It was the blue tie he'd thought he'd lost and now, he realised dryly, he knew where it had gotten to.

Blaine nodded, kissing his stomach.

"Yeah," he replied softly. "You left it here last time." Blaine snorted. "I recognised the tie too," he added, shaking his head in awe at his own ridiculousness. "I knew it was yours but you had me so convinced you were straight that I dismissed it as a coincidence."

Kurt shook his head too, chuckling, feeling dizzy.

"Well, I kind of rely on you thinking things like that," he admitted then froze. But Blaine didn't seem to catch his remark (thankfully, as it could encourage questions that wasn't in Kurt's best interest to answer), instead he chose to focus on a different train of thought and Kurt seized up in anticipation.

"Wait," Blaine said, propping his head up on Kurt's chest to look at him as he remembered what Kurt had said right as they both woke up. _Not again_.

"You knew it was me?" Blaine asked, sounding slightly betrayed. "That you slept with?"

Kurt groaned, twisting his head to the side so he wouldn't have to see Blaine's face.

"Yes," he admitted quietly and then yelped, shooting up the bed and banging his head on the headboard as pain bloomed on his collar bone.

"You _bit _me," he exclaimed and Blaine smiled, kissing the mark he'd made before sitting up.

"That's what you get for keeping important information to yourself," he chided and Kurt could do nothing but splutter mindlessly, staring at the detective whose bed he was sharing in disbelief and shock.

"Now," Blaine said, moving backwards so Kurt could sit up. "I am going to go shower, brush my teeth and get dressed. Then I'm going to make breakfast. You are free to join me, or you can stay here, _naked,_" Blaine seemed to get a lot of glee in saying this, "In my bed until I see fit to let you go."

Kurt laughed, slightly astounded at everything that had happened that morning so far.

_Screw it, _Kurt thought, leaning forward and stealing a kiss from Blaine quickly before getting out of the bed to pad his way across the room to the doorway.

He turned to see Blaine staring at him in surprise at his sudden movement, and a smirk spread its way across his lips reluctantly when he saw Blaine's eyes rove over his naked form that for the first time was exposed to him in the light of day and he would be able to remember properly. Kurt barely stopped a shiver from making its way through him as he noticed Blaine's eyes darken slightly, knowing full well what it meant when they did.

"Aren't you going to show me the way to the bathroom?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow and Blaine scrambled out of the bed, grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling him along enthusiastically to Kurt's extreme amusement.

_Okay, _Kurt thought as Blaine tugged him into the shower and turned it on, pressing him against the wall. _I could get used to this, _he thought reluctantly as they began kissing once again.

_Now, all I need to do is make sure he doesn't figure out I'm Porcelain. _He thought, tipping his head back as Blaine sucked at his neck and repressed a moan as Blaine nipped at a particularly sensitive spot beneath his left ear. _Should be easy, _he thought sarcastically and then he didn't think at all for a long period of time.

* * *

_Sunday afternoon:_

After spending nearly all day at Blaine's apartment Kurt went back home feeling like he was drifting on clouds.

_I am _so _screwed_, was the thought that Kurt had kept repeatedly thinking, even as he and Blaine fucked in Blaine's shower, in Blaine's kitchen when they'd been trying to eat breakfast and then in every other room in Blaine's apartment.

Now, however, that he was out of Blaine's presence (which was so much more distracting now that Kurt had given in to the attraction he'd felt for the detective ever since they'd first met) and he could think a little more clearly.

It was obvious to him now that the truth was going to come out eventually, the NYPD would discover he was Porcelain.

Now he had to go over his options and it was in the twenty minute cab ride from Blaine's apartment to his own that he did so.

The most appealing (and, to him, least likely) option that was feasible was that, once the NYPD found out he was Porcelain, they would keep him on as a criminal consultant and reinstate the tracker. They might even introduce a form of tracking that was harder to get out of and more restricting.

However there was another direction Kurt could see this going, which was him getting put in prison and staying there until his sentence was served.

After all, he could always break out (he doubted he would even find it very hard).

But the thing was, Kurt couldn't see him and Blaine staying together in either of those scenarios. Indeed, he didn't even know what they were _then. _

And that was something he wanted to happen.

Him and Blaine staying together.

There was one last scenario Kurt was _praying _happened and that was that Blaine never made the connection, and things would stay as they were.

However, that was the least likely scenario of them all.

It was with this mindset that Kurt entered his apartment and went into the kitchen to get himself some wine that he ran into Rachel, Santana and Brittany, all staring at the door and waiting for him.

"Gah!" He exclaimed, jumping back in shock.

"Kurt!" Rachel said, beaming as she bounded up to him and went to hug him, pulling back when she didn't get a positive response.

"Nice going Hummel," Santana said, eyeing him and the numerous hickies that were visible on his neck.

"It worked!" Rachel exclaimed happily, clapping her hands.

Brittany didn't say anything, she was staring out of the window.

"What-?" He began asking before realising what had happened. "You!" He hissed, pointing at the girls. "You set us up!"

Santana snorted, tossing her hair.

"Duh," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Do you realise what you've done?" Kurt demanded.

"We got you and the hobbit together," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "No need to _thank _us-"

"_Thank_ you?" Kurt seethed. "Why on earth would I _thank _you? Now the only way I see this catastrophe ending is through disaster and Blaine is likely to never want to talk to me ever again!"

Rachel pulled back from where she was still trying to hug Kurt.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"At some point," Kurt said through gritted teeth. "Blaine is going to realise I'm Porcelain, which he previously wouldn't have been able to do as I would have been able to keep him guessing. _That _was why I constantly zig zagged my sexuality with him, so he wouldn't get close enough to make the connection." He glared at the girls.

"Now, however, that we are _together _or _fucking _or whatever the _hell_ we are now _because _of you, he will get close enough to see the parallels between mine and Porcelain's personality and in the end come to the conclusion that I am Porcelain. Then," Kurt continued, grimly, glad that Rachel at least now looked taken aback at what she'd done and a little contrite. "He will get the evidence he needs to convict me, because he is Detective Anderson and _that is what he does._" Kurt finished, chest heaving.

"Oh, Kurt," Rachel whispered, eyes filled with dread. "I didn't realise he would still-"

"Yes, you didn't realise," Kurt interrupted. "Because none of you know Blaine Anderson like _I _do and both of you underestimated him and you didn't trust that I knew what I was doing."

Santana uncrossed her legs and hopped off from where she was sat at the counter, then forced her glass of wine into Kurt's hand.

"Sit, Hummel, and drink," she ordered and Kurt did so, deflating as the fight left him.

He was a little ashamed to feel tears prick at the back of his eyes and he blinked them away angrily.

Whilst he was still panicked at Blaine's and his relationship advancing, especially considering it would be much harder to hide things from him, he found it easier to handle when under the belief that it was through his own fault that it happened.

Now, however, that he had learned that it was all through the planning of his friends, he was less amiable.

"Now, while that may all be true," Santana said, referring to the rant Kurt had just gone on. "That's not going to happen in the immediate future. And I'm sure you've already started on planning what you're going to do when it _does eventually_ happen. So, what we're going to do now is distract you."

She turned to glance at Rachel.

"Berry's been telling me you've had a heist saved for when Britt and I came back to New York. We can do it today."

Kurt nodded, reluctantly. _At least we can get some work done, _he thought, grumbling mentally.

"Yes," he muttered stiffly. "We can,". He downed Santana's glass of wine and handed it back to her, getting up to leave the room.

"But first," he said, addressing the looks the girls were sending him that were questioning what he was doing. "I'm going to have a shower, I'm going to get changed and I'm going to brush my teeth."

Once he had done all of that, - he'd not wanted to use Blaine's toothbrush, none of his clothes fit him and he'd not had a shower since the one he and Blaine had taken together when they'd first woken up - also indulging in his moisturising routine in an attempt at calming himself, he came back into the kitchen carrying his Picasso forgery and a white t-shirt.

Rachel saw him enter and left the room immediately and Kurt didn't question this, Rachel didn't normally hang around when Kurt started talking work.

"Okay," he said. "First of all, Santana I need you to put this on." He handed her the shirt but before she could he stopped her. "Look at the front first," Kurt ordered and the two girls did so. "That's a print of the Picasso we're going to lift today," he informed them, "and this is how we're going to do it."

* * *

Santana and Brittany walked into the gallery a half hour after Kurt did, giggling with their arms linked. Santana was wearing the shirt, paired with a leather jacket, leather pants and black heels.

Brittany was similarly dressed and their hair was blown out.

"_I need the two of you to dress to impress," _Kurt had said. _"You're going to be the distraction, the security guards need to be looking at you."_

"_Is that why this shirt is so... snug?" Santana asked, pulling at the shirt. The V neck of the shirt stretched across the top of her breasts and showed off her toned stomach._

"_Exactly," Kurt said. "We're going to be sneaking the Picasso out of the gallery between your breasts, so security needs to be focused on them and not what's underneath them on the shirt." He turned to the girls again. "The security guards are the marks." He said, "They're the ones we need to convince everything is fine and that nothing is out of the ordinary."_

Kurt was in the main gallery, timing the camera sweeps. He'd learnt what security measures it had weeks before, when he first started casing the joint.

_Kurt walked into the gallery, wearing his usual suit, and headed straight for the Picasso he was aiming to steal when Santana and Brittany were in New York next. _

_And he lifted it straight off the wall. _

_After a few seconds delay alarms started ringing and the security guards came into the room, surrounding him. _

"_Calm down, gentlemen." Kurt said smoothly. "Here, the painting. It's not damaged whatsoever ."_

_A minute later he was lead into a dark room and the head of security sat opposite him. _

"_You realise that what you attempted today was very foolish-" the man started but Kurt interrupted him, standing up to shake his hand. _

"_Hello Mr...?" Kurt said._

"_Mr Walts," the man said, bemused as he accepted the hand shake._

"_Mr Walts. I'm Turk Hudson," Kurt borrowed his step brother's surname. "A representative from Anderson Security Assessments," he continued, borrowing Blaine's surname this time. "I'm sure you've heard about the recent theft of art all over New York City?"_

_Mr Walts nodded. "Oh, yes, the work of that dreaded Porcelain."  
_

"_Yes," Kurt replied charmingly as inwardly he grinned. _Dreaded. _He'd never been _dreaded _before. _

"_Well, myself and other representatives from Anderson Security Assessments have been hired by the Art council to make sure security is up to par in major galleries around the city, should Porcelain choose to target them."_

_Mr Walts nodded once more. _

"_And," Kurt continued. "To be absolutely frank with you Mr Walts, this gallery is not up to the required standard." Mr Walts opened his mouth to argue but Kurt carried on. "I strolled in and lifted a valuable painting off the wall, why wasn't it bolted down?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "Where's your laser protection? I've seen garden centers with better security." _

_Mr Walts blathered, "We've got cameras-"_

"_What's the downtime with the Picasso's?" Kurt demanded. "Those paintings must be out of the camera's shot for what – thirty seconds? Forty?" Kurt lent forward. _

"_Twenty, actually." Mr Walts said, peevishly and Kurt committed it to memory. "Look, our security is more than up to par-"_

"_Really?" Kurt interrupted. "How so? Because right now I'm _really _not seeing it."_

"_Well, we have X Ray machines," Mr Walts started. "The frames are all tagged in the bottom left hand corner-"_

"_What, you don't tag the canvases?" Kurt asked, listening intently. _

_"No, Miss Gates – the curator," Mr Walts explained, "Is incredibly strict on that. No one is to tamper with the paintings. Besides, you triggered the alarm well before you reached the door."_

"_Well, what if I had chosen to leave out of the window?" Kurt challenged, he'd considered that as a exit when planning out the heist. _

_But Mr Walts smiled. "We have camera's all along the street outside and we have Sat Nav. As soon as you're out on the street, we're watching you."_

_Kurt nodded, drawing back as he tried to absorb all the information. _

_Mr Walts licked his lips nervously. "Well?" He asked. "The verdict? We've done alright, haven't we?"_

"_Mr Walts," Kurt said, charmingly as he smiled. "We at Anderson Security Assessments are not often impressed. But you, sir, have managed to do it."_

Kurt had given Brittany and Santana all this information when telling them the plan.

"_There's a twenty second blind spot on the Picasso," Kurt told them. "The canvas isn't tagged, the frame is. So, whilst you're distracting the security I'll wait for that twenty second blind spot and cut it out of the frame. It won't trigger any alarms and I can replace it with my forgery." Kurt smiled. "They won't notice a thing until their next check up on the paintings."_

_Santana snorted. _

"_What, you're not going to leave a calling card?" _

_Kurt grinned tightly, still annoyed at her about what she'd done by making him and Blaine get together. _

"_You know me too well," he allowed and Santana laughed. _

Kurt had come into the gallery in a suit the first time he'd visited, so this time he wore a hoodie tied to his chin and sunglasses that covered most of his face. He also wore baggy jeans and trainers. He looked the complete opposite to how he had the day he'd scoped out the building, especially with a blonde wig and a clip on ear ring.

Kurt looked at his watch and looked behind him to see all the security guards were gathered around Santana and Brittany in the entrance hall.

He went into action just as the camera span away from the Picasso.

Surging forward he took his trusty craft knife out of his hoodie's pocket and quickly cut the painting out of the frame.

Then, taking out a bottle of spray of glue he sprayed the frame with it, taking great care not to touch the left hand corner lest he set off the alarm.

He pulled his forgery out from underneath his hoodie and, making sure it was the right way up, pressed it on the glue and stuck it to the frame.

Then he replaced the forgery of the painting - which had previously been underneath his hoodie - with the real thing. He then tucked away the glue into his pocket after spraying his calling card with it, and then put away the craft knife.

He pressed his calling card in the middle of canvas and then spun away from the painting, pulling out his mobile and pretending to look at it just as the camera turned on the Picasso again.

Waiting a few minutes, he put his phone away and went to the bathrooms.

"_Santana, I'm going to stick the Picasso lightly on the back of the door in the last stall of the women's bathroom." Kurt told her as she sat on the kitchen counter. "It will have some residue glue on it but will be easy to pull of. You," he said. "Will stick it over the Picasso print on your shirt. Security will be none the wiser." He turned to Brittany. "While she's doing this you'll be distracting security and making sure they don't go back into the main gallery until we've all left the building and gotten away scot free."_

When he came out of the bathroom he knocked over the stand in the doorway, the signal he'd told the girls he'd give them when the painting was successfully stuck on the door.

"Ah," he said, loudly, "my bad, guys, my bad," he called to the security guards looking his way. He bent over and stood the stand back up. "No foul, guys, it's alright," He sounded like Puck or Finn, or even one of the jocks from his old high school, also completely opposite to how he'd spoken to the head of security when he was casing the joint.

He walked out of the gallery and left the building, walking several blocks away before stopping at the meeting point he'd given the girls when informing them of the plan.

It was only then that he took off the stupid hoodie and glasses, leaving him in his usual suit jacket, shirt and tie.

Then he pulled off his baggy jeans, which fit over his shoes and which the suit trousers had fit underneath. Then binned the glasses, jeans and hoodie – they were something he'd bought cheap just for the heist.

At that moment Santana would be asking where the bathrooms are, and if it was okay if she used them. She and Brittany were under the guise of tourists looking for Central Park.

Brittany would be distracting the guards and then Santana would be sticking the painting on her shirt.

Twenty minutes later and Santana and Brittany were walking towards him.

"Hey girls," he said.

"Hi, Porcelain!" Santana exclaimed, high off of pulling off the heist, and Kurt laughed as she peeled the Picasso off her shirt and handed it to him.

He tucked it away in his suit jacket with a grin.

There wasn't anyone they knew near where they were, outside a pet shop. But Kurt chastised her anyway for calling him with his criminal name.

"Shh, Santana," Kurt said, half heartedly. "Someone may hear us," they walked away to the main street, laughing and acting like they'd not done anything out of the ordinary.

Not knowing that someone had. Heard them.

* * *

Becky Jackson had been about to walk out of the pet shop when Kurt started taking off his clothes.

Not quite sure where it may lead she stayed inside and decided not to come out until he left.

So she was still there when Santana and Brittany came out. And she heard Santana call Kurt Porcelain and saw the exchange of the painting.

Then, they finally left and she made her way out of the pet shop.

She walked the few blocks from the pet shop to the NYPD headquarters and went to the receptionist.

The receptionist smiled.

"Here to see Sue?" She asked and Becky nodded.

"Not that it's any of your business," she warbled and the receptionist nodded, still smiling. She was used to Becky's personality.

"I'll tell her you're coming up," The receptionist said and gave Becky a visitors badge. "You know the way to her office." she added and Becky nodded.

"Thank you," Becky said, reluctantly, and turned to go through the doors.

Becky never took the elevator.

She didn't like them and she couldn't remember Sue's floor any way.

She took the stairs. It was six flights up to Sue's floor and it normally took her twenty minutes to walk up them.

When she got to the top she was panting and she pulled out her asthma pump, using it to take a big breath.

Then she made her way to Sue's office.

When she finally got there she knocked and Sue's voice called out from it.

"Come in," she said and Becky did.

Sue smiled at the sight of her.

"Becky!" She said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk. "I didn't know you were coming to visit me today."

Becky nodded.

"Yeah well," she warbled, pushing up her glasses. "I was at the pet store, watching the kittens and something happened."

Sue nodded, concerned, and took of her reading glasses and shut her journal.

"What happened?" She asked.

"Well," Becky said, "I was about to come out when a man in a blue hoodie and wearing sunglasses stopped outside the store." she took a deep breath. "Then he started taking of his clothes so I stayed inside."

Sue nodded, frowning. "Go on."

"Well, underneath his jeans and hoodie he was wearing a posh suit." Becky nodded, looking around Sue's office aimlessly.

She liked Sue's office. It had a potted plant in the corner and Sue kept all her awards for the department on her walls.

"He stayed there a long time," Becky said. "Until two girls came up to him and gave him a pretty painting. And," Becky lent in. "The tall, dark haired lady called him _Porcelain."_

Sue's eyes widened.

"Becky," she said, "Did you get a good look at him?"

Becky nodded. "But I would only be able to recognise him if I saw him." She said, knowing what might be expected of her as she'd been friends with Sue long enough to pick up a few things.

Sue smiled. "I didn't expect you'd talk to a sketch artist anyway Becky."

She reached for the phone on her desk.

"Now," she said, thumbing through the yellow pages. "There's an art gallery a ten minute walk away from that pet store and I bet," she found the right page and dialed in the phone number. "That if I call them and tell them to check their Picasso section," she put on her reading glasses. "They'll find a calling card from Porcelain there."

"Have I been helpful, Coach?" Becky asked and Sue nodded, eyes crinkling.

Becky called her coach because Sue reminded her of her coach in high school and she'd liked it so hadn't had the heart to tell her to stop.

"Incredibly helpful, Becky." She took a breath as someone picked up on the other end of the line.

"Hello, this is Sue Sylvester, head of the White Collar Crime department of the New York Police Department. I'd like to ask you to check your paintings, I think you'll find something is wrong. Yes, I'll wait."

She covered the mouth piece and turned to Becky. "You're witnessing great police work in motion, Becky."

Becky smiled.

"You know," Sue said. "We wouldn't have found out about this for days maybe, if you hadn't been at that pet store today."

Becky nodded. "Thanks Coach," she said, happily.

Sue started as the person from before came back on the line.

"You've found a calling card?" Sue asked. "On the Picasso? Brilliant. I'll dispatch our team over straight away and send a memo to our lead detective on the Porcelain case."

Sue hung up the phone and then redialed for the white collar department.

"Abrams," she said. "Send over a team to Venus Over Manhattan art gallery at 980 Madison. And page Anderson, tell him Porcelain's pulled off another heist and left another calling card, and tell him to get his ass down to 980 Madison."

She hung up without saying good bye and smiled at Becky.

"Well done, Becky." she said. "You may have given us our biggest lead on Porcelain yet"

Kurt wouldn't know for a while, but he would have to face the problem Blaine would pose when the NYPD found out he was Porcelain much sooner than he had thought.

* * *

_Next time on A Game of Cat and Mouse: _

_Becky turned to Sue the instant Kurt had left._

_"Coach," she warbled._

_"Yes, Becky?" Sue asked. _

_"That's Porcelain."_


	15. Chapter 14: Narc

**A/N: Hello everyone. I hope everybody's okay after the sad news about Cory Monteith. I found out about it about half an hour after posting last weeks chapter, otherwise I would have said something then. Poor Lea :( Anyway, enjoy this chapter. **

* * *

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

"_Well done, Becky." she said. "You may have given us our biggest lead on Porcelain yet"._

_Kurt wouldn't know for a while, but he would have to face the problem Blaine would pose when the NYPD found out he was Porcelain much sooner than he had thought._

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Narc**

Blaine sighed as he held up his and Kurt's entwined fingers, watching them as he twisted them in the air, and Kurt smiled when Blaine tipped his head up to kiss the nearest part of him he could reach, the bottom of his chin, and he wriggled his nose at the ticklish sensation.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, breaking the silence in the apartment reluctantly and he felt Blaine stir next to him.

"Hmm?" Blaine responded sleepily.

They were lying on Blaine's sofa in his apartment, which wasn't all that much more comfortable than Blaine's sofa in his office but it was perfect when they just wanted to lie together and think about nothing.

It was three days after Kurt had pulled off the Picasso heist and the police had discovered his calling card.

The police hadn't made much head way in the case much to Blaine's chagrin and Kurt's, hidden and a little guilty, amusement.

"What did you want to be when you were little?" Kurt questioned softly, his voice loud in the quiet of the apartment. It had been silent apart from the sound of their breathing, the occasional kiss and even rarer remark or question.

"Well," Blaine said slowly. "I always wanted to be something in the police." Kurt nodded as Blaine continued. "Being gay in Ohio was hard," he remarked. "So I guess I thought it was the best way to protect people and make sure they weren't being treated the same way." Kurt felt Blaine smile into his shoulder. "Before I wanted to become a detective I wanted to be a superhero."

Kurt chuckled.

"Did you have a name picked out?" He asked quietly and felt Blaine nod to his amusement.

"Nightbird," Blaine mumbled and Kurt snickered. "The nocturnal protector." When Kurt didn't respond except to laugh Blaine poked him in the stomach. "Well what did you want to be?" he asked defensively, grinning teasingly.

Kurt smiled. "I wanted to be a singer, or an actor. I wanted to be on Broadway." Kurt marvelled silently at how differently things had ended up.

"Of course," Blaine said, remembering. "You went to NYADA, didn't you?"

Kurt nodded slightly.

Blaine exhaled slowly and Kurt tightened his hold on him, his arms wrapped around him.

Blaine shifted and Kurt felt something vibrating.

"What's that?" Kurt asked and Blaine sat up, taking out his phone and looking at it.

"It's the station," Blaine said, standing. He offered his hand to Kurt and pulled him up when he accepted it.

Kurt groaned and stretched, his back popping.

"Do we have a case?"

Blaine's eyes crinkled as he smiled at the sight in front of him;

Kurt, his hair untidy and his eyes bleary, sleepy on a Wednesday afternoon – the slowest work day for them (which was why they were taking the afternoon off).

"We have a case," Blaine said, beaming at Kurt.

Whereas before Blaine would have denied it, now he accepted it. They were a team.

Kurt's heart swelled with an emotion he really didn't want to try to identify.

They pulled their shoes on and, grabbing his keys in one hand and Kurt's hand with the other Blaine tugged him out of the apartment to the streets, where Kurt did one of his high pitched whistles and hailed down a cab.

"The NYPD headquarters off of Central Park," Blaine instructed, pulling Kurt down into the cab with him.

"Oh, but can you take us to the Lima Bean first," Kurt interjected, leaning forwards so that the driver would hear him better. "Also off of Central Park."

They sat in the cab side by side, holding hands still and nestled shoulder to shoulder.

"Am I finally going to see the infamous Lima Bean?" Blaine teased, bumping Kurt's shoulder with his and Kurt rolled his eyes. He knew that Blaine had been incredibly curious about the little café ever since Kurt first handed him a takeaway cup with the logo of the branch on it's front and that, though Blaine would never admit it, he had searched for it on his own many a time but never managed to track it down.

"Yes," he said, smirking at Blaine's poorly hidden excitement.

"Hm," Blaine remarked thoughtfully, his eyes shining and Kurt knew he was being teased. "Maybe you'll finally be able to guess my favourite drink correctly."

Kurt elbowed him, looking at him softly and feeling quite sentimental.

"Don't mock me," He chided and Blaine grinned back cheekily. Kurt shook his head in fond exasperation, deciding to let it go as he settled back in his seat.

"Did they say why we're being called in?" He asked, rubbing the back of Blaine's hand with his thumb.

Blaine nodded, mouth setting in a sort of annoyed pout.

"They want me to analyse the calling card again," he said, rolling his eyes.

Kurt snorted, remembering what he'd written on it this time.

It was a generic, ooh look at this forgery, isn't it magnificent, bet you can't catch me Anderson nah-nah-nah-nah-nah, type message that he'd left many times before.

_What idiots, _Kurt thought, scathingly. _We could be back at Blaine's apartment having lazy sex right now if they had a bit more insight. Or, _he added, _if they didn't insist on calling Blaine in for stupid reasons._

"Wow, they want the infamous Detective Anderson to double check his own work?" Kurt asked, rhetorically. "They _must _be getting desperate."

Blaine snorted and he rolled his eyes again. Kurt barely held himself back from telling him that if he kept on doing it, the wind would change and his face would get stuck that way.

"Hardly," he shook his head. "No, Sue's just impatient for more results. It's almost like she's got extra riding on this investigation or something,"

Kurt lent his head on Blaine's shoulder, crossing his legs and hummed in faux thoughtfulness.

"Maybe she does," He offered. "Maybe she knows something about it that you don't."

Blaine snorted. "I doubt it," he dismissed. "Normally she's coming to _me _to see what I think, she never knows more than me on Porcelain cases."

Kurt looked at Blaine with an eyebrow raised.

"You," he said, "Are getting too big for your boots."

Blaine snickered and Kurt hit him lightly, struggling to keep his face straight.

"I'm serious," Kurt insisted. "I wish _I _knew who Porcelain is, I could ask him to put you in your place a little." Kurt held back a smirk.

"The Lima Bean!" The driver announced, stopping outside it.

"Okay, thanks," Kurt called, turning to Blaine.

"I'm going to go get some coffee really quickly," he said. "You stay here," He opened the door and moved to get out, but Blaine pulled him back in with the hand he still had a hold of, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"Be quick," he murmured, letting Kurt go and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You're so cheesey!" He called over his shoulder, shutting the door of the cab.

"You love it!" Blaine retorted, having wound down Kurt's window.

Kurt rolled his eyes, waving at Blaine over his shoulder and entered the Lima Bean, trying to push away the feeling of unease at Blaine's words.

_Love_, he thought, a little frantically, _as if._

Thankfully the little coffee place was fairly quiet, as they'd missed the big morning rush and therefore hardly anyone was in there. So he arrived at the front of queue nearly immediately and smiled at Marley.

"Hi," Kurt said. "Can I have two hot orange chocolates please?"

"Of course!" Marley said, turning. "Unique, two-"

"- I heard!" Unique replied, bringing the drinks.

"That'll be eight dollars," Marley said cheerfully.

Kurt winced, pulling out his wallet. "I'd stop coming here if your drinks weren't so good," He joked. "I'm going to end up on the streets," he added, handing over the money.

Marley laughed. "Yeah, they _are _pretty expensive." she allowed. "I'm glad I have a twenty percent employee discount."

Kurt whistled. "Lucky duck."

Marley grinned. "I know. Come back soon!" She said and he took his drinks, moving out of the queue.

"Have a good day!" He responded cheerfully and she laughed.

When he jumped back into the back of the cab Blaine flicked him.

"Ow," Kurt said on reflex, smiling. "What was that for?" he asked, holding out Blaine's drink to him.

Blaine took it.

"You weren't _quick_," he said and Kurt snorted.

"You're going to be one of the clingy boyfriends," He remarked. "I can tell,"

Blaine paused before he took a drink.

"So, is that what we are?" He asked, quietly. "Boyfriends?"

Kurt swallowed.

_Past the point of no return, _he reminded himself.

"I'd like it to be," he said just a softly. "Is... that okay?"

Blaine nodded jerkily.

"No complaints from me," He joked and Kurt grinned, leaning over for a quick peck.

"Great," Kurt beamed. "Drink!" He ordered, taking a sip of his own drink and Blaine did so too.

"This," Blaine said. "Is delicious."

"Your favourite?" Kurt asked archly.

Blaine took another sip. "Incredibly close," he allowed and Kurt paused, before replying, mind whirring as he thought.

"Is," he took a deep breath, "Your favourite hot chocolate?" He finished, exhaling loudly and Blaine grinned.

"Yep," he said, popping the p cheerfully and laughed at the look of torn outrage on Kurt's face.

"What?" He asked, laughing and taking another sip of his orange hot chocolate. "I never said my favourite was an obscure, exotic type of drink like those you've been giving me. Honestly, Kurt," He added, grinning. "How likely was it that any of those kinds were my favourite any way? I mean, they were hardly common."

Kurt shook his head, in disbelief.

"Still," he managed, "I can't believe I spent all that time guessing and it was _hot chocolate _all along!"

Blaine grinned, slurping his drink. "I'm a man of simple tastes."

Kurt snorted.

"NYPD Headquarters!" The cab driver announced and Kurt and Blaine let go of each others hands (which they'd instinctively went back to holding when Kurt came back into the cab.)

They'd agreed to keep their relationship covert at work, considering Sue didn't like people in the same department dating.

"Thanks," Blaine said to the driver, handing him the fare.

Kurt and Blaine had an agreement about who would pay the cab fare, something they'd decided on when Kurt first became Blaine's consultant.

* * *

"_No, I'll get it," Blaine said and Kurt shook his head. _

"_Anderson, I'll pay the fare, it's not a big deal-"_

_Blaine snorted. "You're not getting paid for this consultant work until you're off the tracker so I don't understand why you're jumping to spend money."_

_Kurt nodded slowly, the cab beside them forgotten even as Blaine handed the impatient driver his money and he drove away. _

"_Okay," Kurt said slowly, thinking as Blaine rolled his eyes and grabbed his elbow to steer him as the walked, stopping him from walking into a post. "What do you propose then? Because I'm not going to let you pay for the cab fare every time we get one, which I'm assuming will be often."_

_Blaine nodded. "Yes," he admitted. "I do end up using cabs very often,"_

"_Okay," Kurt said. "What about this. Whoever hails the cab, the other person pays. That way it won't be a competition to see who meets the criteria and gets to pay."_

_Blaine snorted, shaking his head. _

"_I know it's not the most inspired arrangement," Kurt said, defensively, "But it's better than arguing every time we get a cab," _

_Blaine reluctantly accepted and they walked in to the station to sit in Blaine's office and do nothing – which was what most of their police work consisted of._

* * *

Kurt and Blaine left the elevator and walked out into the White Collar department, together for the first time that week, to be met with the staring eyes of all the employees in their department.

Kurt raised his eyebrow in question at the expectant looks sent towards them, glancing at Blaine quickly who shrugged.

_I don't know what this is about either, _is what the shrug seemed to mean and Kurt snorted in reply – something he knew Blaine would be able to interpret as;

_Well, aren't you a big help, _or something equally sarcastic.

Artie came to the rescue, hurriedly.

"Okay folks," he said nervously. "Nothing to see here. Nothing to see," He stopped beside Blaine and Kurt and then wheeled next to them as they walked to Blaine's office.

As soon as they were out of ear shot of their co-workers Blaine turned to Artie and hissed, "You told them?!"

Kurt looked at Blaine in shock as Artie scrambled for an answer and swatted his boyfriend on the shoulder, sending him a look when he turned his head to glance at him.

You_ told _him_? _Kurt's eyes questioned and Blaine's wince told him he'd gotten the message.

"Sorry, Blaine." Artie finally got out, saving Blaine from having to explain himself to Kurt momentarily. "It's just..." He took a deep breath and carried on nervously. "There's been a betting pool and-"

"Okay, Artie, get out," Blaine said, as they had reached his office and Artie did so quickly, banging into the door a little on his way out.

"I'm fine!" He called behind him as he high-tailed it out of there.

Kurt closed the door as Blaine got the blinds and then as soon as that was done Kurt turned to Blaine.

"You _told _him?" He asked imploringly, voicing his earlier question and just like before Blaine winced.

"Well," Blaine said, a defensive expression on his face. "I mean, I kind of freaked out a little after you left that Sunday," he admitted. "I needed advice and I didn't want to ask Emma or Will as they'd just take the piss," Kurt's eyebrow raised at the rare cuss from Blaine. "So Artie was the only feasible option."

Kurt nodded, walking forward so his and Blaine's bodies were flush for an instant before walking around him to sit on the edge of his desk, like normal.

"Fair enough," Kurt allowed, sending a look at Blaine's chair in a non verbal instruction for him to sit as he crossed his legs. "But, why were you freaking out?" He asked, ignoring the fact that he himself had been freaking out too considering he had slightly more reason to.

Blaine snorted, sitting down and turning to Kurt. "I don't know," he admitted. "I guess it was just because we'd been dancing around each other for so long. Not to mention," he added. "the fact I'd previously thought you were straight."

Kurt snorted, reaching forward to flick Blaine's knee.

"I thought you were over that?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shook his head. "I think I just needed a second away from you to wrap my head around it." He said.

Kurt smirked. "Oh, of course, that's obviously the sensible thing to do in your situation." He said, sarcastically. "I'd do the same thing."

Blaine looked at him in amused shock.

"Did you just-?"

"- I don't know what you're talking about," Kurt interrupted. "I'm going to go and get Artie back here, to tell us why were called in, _really._"

Kurt grinned as he left the office, feeling Blaine's amused eyes on his back even as he did so.

What he'd said in response to Blaine was _exactly _what he'd said to him when they first met, _officially, _in the interrogation room and no doubt Blaine remembered.

He and Artie found each other at the same time.

"Kurt," Artie said. "Just the man I was looking for,".

Kurt shook his head. "That's odd." he said. "I was looking for you."

"Okay, man, tell me what you wanted first."

Kurt grinned. "Okay. Um, do you mind coming to tell Blaine and I why we were called in? We don't _actually_ know what Sue wants of us, considering Blaine's already analysed the calling card."

Artie nodded. "Sure."

"Great," Kurt smiled. "What were you looking for me for?"

"Oh, er, Sue wants to see you in her office." Artie said and Kurt shook his head a little.

"Okay..." he said slowly. "That's odd. Sure, I'll go now."

"See you in a few then," Artie said before stopping him from leaving. "And, Kurt."

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations."

Kurt snorted and, holding up his hand in recognition, made his way to Sue's office, leaving behind an Artie who was reeling at just how much like Blaine he was. That action was exactly like the one Blaine had made when Sue called him into her office to tell him Kurt was becoming a consultant. When their lives changed in a massive way.

* * *

Kurt knocked on Sue's open office door.

"You wanted to see me, Sue?" Kurt said before noticing someone was already in there.

"Oh, sorry." Kurt said as the two women turned to look at him. "I didn't realise you were already with someone." he turned to leave. "I'll come back later-"

"Don't mind Becky, Hummel." Sue said, taking off her reading glasses. "She's just a friend, visiting. Come on in."

Kurt nodded. "Sure." he turned to Becky, holding out his hand.

"Oh, um, I'm Kurt Hummel." he said. "Consultant for the White Collar Crime department."

Becky nodded. "I know who you are," she warbled and Kurt nodded, withdrawing his hand when she didn't take it.

"Um, okay." He stood there awkwardly.

"Sit down, Tickle-Me-Dough-Face," Sue said, snappishly. "Your hovering is making me nervous."

"Sorry." he sat down in the seat next to Becky. "Why did you want to see me, Sue?"

Sue nodded, peering over at him across the table.

"Just to see how you were getting on," she said, "I've not checked up on you since you became the official consultant, I was just wondering how you were doing."

Kurt nodded, relaxing a little. He wasn't in trouble. "Oh, no, yeah. I'm fine."

"Good, good." she said. "And how's Anderson? Is he less adverse to you working with us?"

Kurt smiled. "Yeah, you could say that," he said, thinking about how less adverse he'd been when he let him stay over at his apartment the night before.

"That's good," she said. "And what about the other people in the department? No body has a problem with you helping out?"

Kurt shook his head. "No," he said. "In fact I've befriended one of the tech-"

"Yeah, I asked you a question Hummel," Sue said. "Not for your life story."

Kurt nodded, shutting up.

"And Anderson's still working to the same standard as he was before?" Sue asked. "Not acting distracted at all?"

Kurt smiled once again, thinking about how professional Blaine still was at work even though they were dating.

"Yes," he said. "He doesn't let any personal life affect his detective work."

Sue nodded and didn't ask anything more.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes.

"Is that it?" Kurt finally asked. "Can I go?"

Sue nodded.

"Yes, run along."

Kurt did so, leaving the office unhurriedly, not aware how Becky had been staring at him the whole time.

* * *

Becky turned to Sue the instant Kurt had left.

"Coach," she warbled.

"Yes, Becky?" Sue asked.

"That's Porcelain."

Sue looked up.

"Are you sure?" She asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Becky nodded. "Positive," she said. "He looks like he did on Sunday."

"Well," Sue murmured. "That explains why we've not gotten any closer to catching him since he joined."

"What are you gonna do, Coach?" Becky asked and Sue shrugged, looking down at her papers.

"I don't know," she said. "I can't be sure that you're right, of course. It may have been a coincidence after all."

Becky nodded.

"But if I am?" she asked, not insulted that Sue was doubting her. She liked that Sue treated her the same way as she would anyone else, where as other people always treated her differently.

"If you're right," Sue said. "Well, then I'm going to have to tell Anderson that his boy toy is the criminal he's been chasing after his entire career."

* * *

_Next on A Game of Cat and Mouse:   
_

_"Blaine, what-?"_

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," Blaine started, moving towards Kurt to pull his hands behind his back and handcuffing him. "You're being taken into custody on suspicion of committing multiple different crimes that place you as being behind and identifying as an infamous criminal; known to the public, police and media simply as Porcelain."


	16. Chapter 15: Obstruction of Justice

**(A/N: Hey guys :) So finally, the chapter we've all been waiting for! I've been sick this week, unable to do any writing, and the chapter I was working on got deleted when I'd almost finished it, so don't be surprised if there's no update next week. Enjoy the chapter :3)**

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

"_If you're right," Sue said. "Well, then I'm going to have to tell Anderson that his boy toy is the criminal he's been chasing after his entire career."_

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Obstruction of Justice**

Something Kurt couldn't help but marvel at was the fact that being with Blaine felt as easy as breathing.

They'd been together for about two weeks at this point and it was so far the easiest and most enjoyable relationship he'd ever had; far surpassing whatever he'd ever had with Adam and the countless amount of flings he'd had over the years. (Which wasn't something Blaine was ever going to learn about, not if Kurt had a say in it.)

However Kurt could feel something coming.

Those two weeks had been like the calm before the storm and he knew that somehow, soon, everything as he knew it was going to change and so he was constantly on edge, tensing for something bad to happen.

Soon, Blaine noticed.

"Kurt," Blaine said and Kurt jumped, nearly knocking over his coffee.

"Fuck!" Kurt gasped, catching his coffee at the last minute, ignoring the look of reproach an elderly lady shot them from where she was sitting a few tables over.

They were in the Lima Bean having coffee – whatever rules Kurt had previously had about no one from his work side of life joining him there didn't apply to Blaine (or Puck, funnily enough), for some reason – and it was a Sunday afternoon with no cases brought to them at the NYPD. This meant they didn't have to go into the station.

"Crap, Blaine." Kurt said, finally calming and he shot a glare at his boyfriend. "Don't do that."

Blaine reached across the table to grab Kurt's hand.

"Kurt," he repeated. "What's wrong?"

Immediately Kurt retracted his hand and looked away from where Blaine's eyes were staring into his.

"Nothing," he mumbled and Blaine shot him a look. Kurt huffed through his nose in annoyance. "Fine!" He exclaimed. "I don't know why but I've just... got this sense of foreboding." Kurt admitted. "And it's putting me on edge."

Blaine smiled and reached across again. This time Kurt let him keep his hand.

"Oh Kurt," he said, smoothing his thumb across the knuckles of Kurt's hand, smiling at him in exasperated amusement.

Kurt ducked his head down, reaching for his cup of coffee and taking a sip to hide his face.

"Shut up," he mumbled, well aware that as Blaine had no knowledge about just how _risky _it was for Kurt to be with him he also had no idea that Kurt had every reason to be on edge.

"You're adorable," Blaine said, looking at him fondly.

As Kurt looked up to glare at him his surly look was prematurely stopped, as it was met with a quick kiss from Blaine, who then sunk back into his seat grinning.

"I hate you," Kurt informed him, smiling reluctantly, and Blaine laughed.

"Hate you too," he said, fondly, taking a bite of the scone he'd decided to buy from the counter.

Kurt shook his head and took another sip of his coffee, smiling into the cup even as mentally the voice that usually popped up during a heist or a con began to chastise him.

_You're getting far too attached to the Detective. _

Kurt ignored the voice.

* * *

It was later that day, when they were lying in bed, that Kurt brought what was making him feel so uneasy up again.

"Should this be so easy?" He murmured and Blaine's hand stilled from where it was tracing patterns on his bare shoulder, before starting up once again a second later.

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked into Kurt's hair quietly.

Kurt shifted so he could look up at Blaine's face. (Blaine was the big spoon that evening. They tended to rotate the position, neither having a specific preference.)

"Well," Kurt said, eyes roving over Blaine's face as he sought to put his worries into words. Smooth skin, freckles on plump cheeks, warm brown eyes, curls. He barely stopped himself from sighing as he tried to get back on track,. "This is probably the easiest relationship I've ever been in," He admitted and Blaine nodded in agreement, waiting for him to go on. "And I just wonder," Kurt continued. "Whether something is wrong. I mean, it's not _supposed _to be easy, is it?"

Blaine exhaled through his nose gustily. "Hmm," he said, thinking. "Well, to be fair," Blaine said thoughtfully, obviously taking Kurt's question seriously as he pondered on what to say.

Again Kurt barely kept himself from sighing. Where most would have dismissed his worries as foolish paranoia Blaine, he'd found, was perfect in taking anything Kurt had to say on their relationship seriously.

"Most people," Blaine continued. "Don't start off the relationship with a one night stand and then continue it after months in another, so," Blaine said, smiling slightly. "We're not the most conventional couple and I don't think the conventional rules apply. Besides," he said, tipping down his head to press a kiss to Kurt's head. "I feel like I've known you for ever." He said, eyes shining. "I think that's something we have going in our favour."

Kurt snorted.

"You are so_ cheesey_!" He exclaimed and Blaine grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

"You love it," he retorted quietly and Kurt smiled, kissing him again.

"Yeah," he murmured, worries still whispering in the back of his mind. _Love, _Kurt let the word seep through him. _A strong word. _Kurt thought, shivering slightly whether in fear, worry or excitement he didn't even know. "I think I must do."

Blaine smiled and pressed another kiss to his lips softly.

"Come on," he said, tugging Kurt down from where he was leaning on the headboard. "Let's go to sleep."

* * *

"It's been two weeks since you told me about Tickle-Me-Dough-Face being Porcelain." Sue announced, turning to look at Becky who was sat in the chair opposite her desk.

"Yeah, Coach?" Becky chimed, eyeing Sue and wondering where she was going with this obvious statement of the current events concerning the secretive consultant.

"And I've spent those two weeks observing him." Sue continued, tapping her chin as she pondered. "I've noticed things now that I took care to watch." she went to look out of the window. "He moves silently, and I couldn't find a single frame in the security cameras of his face ever since he came here. It's like he does it instinctively."

Sue turned to Becky as she nodded, listening attentively in silence.

"He manipulates situations to his liking constantly," Sue went on. "And he has multiple friends in the station, none of which serve the same purpose in this facility as the other. I doubt that gaining connections in every department of the NYPD was accidental on his part."

Sue walked back to her desk and sat opposite Becky.

"There's only one person who can do all of that," Sue murmured, eyes flashing. "I may not be any Blaine Anderson but even _I _can see the connection." Sue's eyes narrowed as she grit her teeth. "Hummel _is_ Porcelain."

_And the little bastard nearly slipped right past me. _Sue thought, angrily.

"Are you gonna tell Anderson, coach?"

Sue looked thoughtful.

"Soon," she allowed, "I'll tell him soon."

* * *

"I just broke up with Jesse," Rachel announced as she came into the apartment.

It was Monday morning and Kurt had came home from Blaine's apartment to get changed, brush his teeth and go through his moisturising routine.

Kurt turned to her.

"You hadn't broken up with him already?" He asked as Finn went to greet her. "I mean, you and Finn have been together just as long, if not longer, than Blaine and I have. Shouldn't you have done it sooner?"

Finn and Rachel came over to him holding hands.

"No," Rachel said. "I waited a bit so he wouldn't connect my breaking up with him with the disappearance of your prints."

Kurt nodded, understanding the reasoning behind her decision.

"Fair enough," he allowed and then when Finn went to kiss Rachel he snapped. "Okay, Finn." He called and his step brother turned to look at him. "You have to go," he said. "You've practically been _living _here. Go back to your place for a bit,"

Finn shook his head.

"What?" he asked, frowning. "But I-"

"You know what?" Rachel asked, glancing at Kurt's face and managing to glean that Kurt had had _more _than enough. "Kurt's right. Go home for a little bit then you can come back. I'll call you."

Finn nodded reluctantly. "Okay, fine."

Rachel walked him to the door and then as soon as it was shut she bounded over to Kurt, landing next to him on the sofa.

"Okay," she said, bouncing. "He's gone. Now tell me _everything._"

Kurt snorted.

"You've been waiting days for this haven't you?" He asked, amused and in a better mood now that his brothers constant presence in his life had been dismissed momentarily.

Rachel nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes." she said. "Now, _spill." _

Kurt laughed.

"What are we?" he asked, trying to hold in his laughter at the sight of his best friend on the edge of her seat in excitement. "In an episode of Gossip Girl?"

Rachel scoffed. "Shut up, Hummel," she retorted. "And give me all the details."

Kurt shook his head.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Have you done it?" Rachel asked immediately and Kurt choked a little bit.

"Wow, Rachel." he said, eyes wide. "Nice to know what you really care about."

"_Kurt_!"

"Fine!" he said. "Yes, we've done it. You know we have, I mean I had a one night stand with the man."

Rachel shook her head. "No, I mean since then!"

Kurt laughed, looking away awkwardly. "Of course we haven't," he said flatly as he lied. "Just hand holding and kissing, like being back in kindergarten."

"Don't hold out on me, Hummel," Rachel warned and Kurt sighed, turning to look at her full on for the first time since they started that conversation.

"Fine. We've done it since then." He snapped. "You happy now?"

Rachel beamed. "Extremely."

Kurt snorted.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked, eyeing her weirdly.

She ignored him. "Okay, so does he know?"

"Know what?" Kurt asked obliviously and Rachel shot him a look. "_Oh,_" he said, eyes widening slightly before narrowing stonily. "You mean that I'm-?"

"Porcelain. Yes. Does he know?"

Kurt laughed shortly.

"Yes, Rachel." he said sarcastically. "Five minutes into the relationship and I've told the man whose whole career has been chasing one criminal that I'm that criminal. Sure." he flicked her on the forehead sharply in reproach and she winced.

"_Ow! Kurt-!" _Rachel started but Kurt carried on, mindlessly.

"Of course I haven't told him!" He looked at her like she was crazy. "What do you take me for, suicidal?"

Rachel snorted. "I highly doubt he'd _kill _you, Kurt-"

"No, but I'd wish I was dead." Kurt snapped and then shut up, taken aback having said more than he'd wanted to.

"What?" Rachel sat up, and turned to look at him straight on. "Kurt, what do you mean by that?" She looked at him intensely. "Do you, do you think you _love-_"

"I don't know!" Kurt exclaimed loudly, running a hand down his face as he deflated. "I don't know what I think Rachel." he turned away from her, turning to look at the television which was playing the rerun of Castle they'd been ignoring. "All I know is," he continued quietly. "I really like him and I think it's going to kill me when he finds out I'm Porcelain."

Rachel moved over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh Kurt." she mumbled, pulling him into a hug. "You don't think there's a chance he'll-"

"What? Not care?" Kurt interrupted, morosely. "Forgive me?" He shook his head. "Rachel, you've not heard him talk about me." he looked down dejectedly. "He _hates _Porcelain." Kurt confessed. "I mean, I know that before when I knew him as Porcelain I teased him a lot but... He _hates _me Rachel."

Rachel squeezed him and then pulled away, heading for the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Kurt asked, groaning.

"I," Rachel called, "am going to get wine, Ice Cream and Pride and Predjudice."

Kurt snorted. It was their routine for when one of them were sad.

"Thanks, Rach." Kurt said, leaning back on the sofa to rest his head on the back.

_I,_ Kurt thought for the thousandth time since getting into a relationship with Blaine, _am so, _so_ screwed._

* * *

Kurt and Blaine were in his office with the blinds drawn and the door shut and Blaine was trying to work.

Key word being _trying. _

Kurt was bored and was trying to distract him, and Blaine hadn't caved as quickly as he thought he would.

After about ten minutes of Kurt looking over Blaine's shoulder, breathing on his neck and doing several other things in a not so subtle attempt at seduction Blaine had had enough.

"Screw it," Blaine said and threw down the file he was looking through before turning his head to where Kurt was resting his chin on his shoulder and caught his lips harshly in a dominating kiss.

Blaine felt Kurt smirk against his lips and bit him in retribution.

Kurt pulled back, raising his finger to his lips and grinned as he prodded the spot where Blaine had sunk his teeth into his lower lip.

"I know I like it rough Blaine," Kurt said, grinning. "But not _that _rough."

Blaine snorted and opened his mouth to retaliate but before he could there was a knock on his office door.

Kurt and Blaine pulled apart from each other.

"Blaine!" Artie called from outside. "Can I come in?"

Blaine started.

_Just Artie,_ he thought before clearing his throat, rubbing his lips in an attempt at reducing the redness in them before calling to Artie in the affirmative.

Kurt got the door and stepped aside so that Artie could wheel in.

"Thanks Kurt," Artie said and Kurt smiled.

"No problem," he replied, smirking at Blaine over Artie's head.

Blaine felt his face warm slightly, knowing Kurt was going to hold the fact that he'd initiated a kiss in his _office, _at _work_, _just _before someone came in, over his head.

"So, Artie," Blaine said, blinking furiously and shooting an amused Kurt a dark look. "What can I do for you?"

Artie shrugged.

"Not for me, man. For Sue."

Blaine frowned.

"She wants to see us in her office?" he asked and Artie shook his head.

"Just you," he said and Blaine nodded, his frown deepening.

"Oh, er... okay."

Artie knew that Blaine and Kurt were together so Blaine didn't hesitate in pressing a quick kiss to Kurt's lips before leaving, making his way to Sue's office.

He heard Artie and Kurt beginning to make small talk as he left and he smiled. Although he knew that Kurt did actually like Artie he was happy that Kurt was making the effort to become friends with his friend.

"Sue, you wanted to see me?" Blaine said at the door and Sue looked up. He then noticed that Becky Jackson was in the room too.

"Becky!" he said in surprise, panic welling up in the pit of his stomach slightly. "It's nice to see you! W-what are you doing here?"

He tried to hold back his shiver as Becky grinned at him, in what was obviously meant to be a flirty manner.

Despite knowing that he was gay Becky Jackson had had a crush on him when he had met her and he'd first joined the White Collar department. Since then she had never stopped hitting on him. And considering he _was _gay, whilst he found it slightly flattering, he mainly found it creepy and wasn't very comfortable with it.

"That's what I've called you here for Anderson," Sue said and gestured to the chair next to Becky. "Take a seat."

Blaine nodded and reluctantly moved over next to Becky.

"Okay," he said, gulping as he lowered himself onto the chair, his body tensed.

He jolted slightly as a second after his butt had hit the chair Becky's tiny hand was on his thigh.

"Becky," Sue snapped, seeing it. "Take your hand off of Anderson."

Becky frowned but did so. "Sorry, Coach." she warbled and Blaine frowned slightly.

Becky had taken every opportunity to touch him inappropriately in the past and Sue had done nothing to stop it, despite having seeing it happen.

Blaine's guard instantly snapped up.

_This actually must be serious, _he thought and began paying apt attention.

"Okay," Blaine said, trying to defuse the situation. "What's wrong, Sue?"

Sue leant back in her chair and took off her reading glasses.

Then she nodded towards Becky.

"Becky here," she began, "Came in here a few weeks ago to tell me about something interesting she'd witnessed after going to the pet shop."

Blaine nodded, indicating that he was listening and for Sue to carry on as he took out his note pad and pen, flipping it open and clicking his pen.

"Becky, why don't you tell Detective Anderson what you saw?" Sue instructed and Becky nodded.

"Okay, Coach." she swallowed. "I was going to go out of the pet shop," Becky said and Blaine began to take notes. "But I saw a tall, thin man taking off of his clothes so I didn't."

Blaine nodded, not too scandalised. Nudity wasn't that rare in New York.

"What clothes was he wearing?" Blaine interrupted and Becky screwed up her face as she tried to remember.

"Baggy jeans and a _huge _hoodie." Becky said and Blaine nodded, making a note of it.

"Can you remember what he looked like?" He asked and as Becky was about to answer Sue interjected.

"Just let her talk Anderson, you're not going to need a description."

Blaine sat back and his heart began to pick up as he gained an inkling of what that could mean.

"Okay." He said, exhaling out of his nose heavily. "Carry on Becky."

"Anyway," Becky said, staring out of the window. "He was wearing a posh suit underneath his clothes and he waited there for like fifteen minutes." Blaine made a note of the change of clothes and time waited. "Then," Becky continued, pushing her glasses up her nose that were starting to slide down. "Two ladies came up to him, laughing and-"

"What did they look like?" Blaine interrupted, unable to help himself and, catching Sue's dirty look and her mouth about to open, added, "It's important for whatever investigation comes from this,"

Sue nodded, a sour look on her face. "Fair enough," she allowed and told Becky to answer Blaine's question.

"One was blonde and one was a brown haired," Becky said, "He called the brown one 'Santana',"

Blaine paled slightly and made a note of the name, mind flashing back to two weeks before.

* * *

_Blaine made an effort to remember all of the names of the new people around the table as they were introduced. _

_He knew some of them before of course, Finn and Rachel for instance, but the others he didn't. _

_Puck, the muscled, hard looking man. Sebastian, the slick and tall smooth talker._

_When Sebastian introduced Brittany, the bubbly and slightly odd blonde he nodded, making a mental note to ask Kurt what her deal was, whether she was on anything because she was extremely ditzy. _

_He turned to the tall, busty brunette next to Brittany. _

_She looked like she had Spanish backgrounds and for some reason looked familiar. She bore remarkable resemblance to Kurt's date on the evening of the charity ball they were both forced to go to._

_Brittany smiled and opened her mouth to talk, instantly she had Blaine's attention once more. _

"_This is my dolphin, Santana." She said and the brunette, Santana, smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to her girlfriends lips quickly._

* * *

Blaine looked up from where he was writing, shaking off his uneasy feeling and smiled weakly at Becky to indicate he'd finished writing and she could carry on.

"And the brown haired lady, Santana," Becky continued. "Called the man _Porcelain._" Becky finished, looking to Sue for confirmation that she'd been helpful.

Blaine's eyes widened as he made a note of it.

"Are you sure that-" He began and Sue cut him off.

"Becky was who tipped us off that Porcelain had pulled a heist at the Venus Over Manhattan art gallery two weeks ago," she said. "The pet shop she was at was a ten minute walk from the gallery."

Blaine made an attempt to hide his shock as he wrote that information down.

"Wow," he said. "Um, well done Becky," he praised, still slightly taken aback. "That gave us a jump start on the case, which is always useful when going up against Porcelain."

"She wasn't finished Detective," Sue said, "She came back here a few days ago, and she was here when I called Mr Hummel into my office," Blaine nodded.

"Oh yeah, I remember," he said, "Kurt mentioned meeting Becky to me." Blaine thought back on when he'd told Kurt Becky always hit on him and smiled. Kurt had been quite amused but kissed him anyway, still slightly possessive. "What does Kurt have to do with-"

"Once Hummel left my office, Becky identified him as the man she'd seen outside the pet shop." Sue said firmly and Blaine felt his shock spread about his face and betrayal bloom in his chest, even as his mind swam with confusion.

_What? _He thought. _Kurt? Kurt can't be- _What?

"We don't have any proof apart from an eyewitness account." Sue continued. "But when you return to your office I expect you to take him into custody and obtain a warrant to search his apartment where you will therein be able to get the evidence to arrest him."

Blaine felt himself nod even as numbness spread throughout his body.

Still in shock he heard himself croak out. "Yes Sue."

Sue nodded. "You're dismissed."

Blaine took his leave, walking out of Sue's office as his mind came up with thousands of questions.

_How could Kurt be Porcelain? Wouldn't I have noticed? He can't be-_

"Hey Blaine," Artie greeted as Blaine passed his cubicle. "Sue kept you a while. Kurt's been alone in your office for ten minutes without supervision, I'd get there quickly before he makes off with your stapler." Artie frowned as he got no response. "Blaine? What's-"

"Artie," Blaine managed to get out through his constricted throat. "Get a few officers and come with me."

Artie nodded, still frowning. "Okay Blaine, one second." He turned to call over his shoulder. "Hey, Mike, Sam, get over here," Artie took another look at Blaine's face. "Bring your guns,"

When the two officers – well, one officer and one intern - got to them Blaine nodded, breathing heavily, still feeling frozen.

"Guns out," he croaked and they both nodded, Sam looking excited beyond belief to finally be doing some official police work. Mike got behind Artie and grabbed the handles of his wheelchair. They followed Blaine as he made his way to his office, he could feel their confusion when they got to the door.

Blaine opened it without knocking, whipping his gun forward to point towards Kurt, who was sitting in his chair.

Kurt turned in it, smiling. "Hey Blaine, what took you so-" He froze when he saw Blaine's gun and stood up slowly, hands in the air.

"Blaine," he said slowly, eyeing Mike, Sam and Artie as they came in behind him, Artie getting his gun out once Mike had stopped him. "What's going on?"

Blaine cleared his throat. "Hands behind your head, Hummel," He said, somehow managing to get it out without wavering, even when he saw the shock on Kurt's face at being addressed as such.

Kurt slowly complied.

"Blaine, what-?"

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," Blaine started, moving towards Kurt to pull his hands behind his back and handcuffing him. "You're being taken into custody on suspicion of committing multiple different crimes that place you as being behind and identifying as an infamous criminal; known to the public, police and media simply as 'Porcelain'."

Blaine couldn't see Kurt's face but felt his body tense. He could tell that Sam, Mike and Artie were completely shocked as well as he'd not told them what they were doing when he asked them to follow him.

Blaine took a deep breath and carried on as smoothly and emotionlessly as he could.

"The crimes you are suspected of committing consists of, but are not limited to, instigating major heists such as the Venus Over Manhattan gallery heist, the Jade Tiger heist and Rose diamond heist. You are also suspected of committing the theft of multiple pieces of valuable art works, jewellery and artefacts, the forgery of multiple priceless pieces of art work, counterfeiting many bonds and bills of different origins and multiple accounts of murder, assassination, kidnapping, instances of breaking and entering and the breaking of many international laws. You are advised to remain silent until your lawyer is present as, should you be convicted, anything you do say can be used against you in court."

Blaine took a deep breath once finishing the required reciting of why the suspect was being convicted and, without looking away from Kurt's hunched back in front of him from where he was holding Kurt's handcuffed wrists, he called to the two standing officers waiting at the door, their guns lowered but still out of their holsters.

"Officer Chang, Evans," he said, dully. "Please escort the suspect to the holding cells until such a time that we are ready to question him."

Not wanting to argue the two men did so, each taking a hold of one of Kurt's shoulder – much gentler than they would were it someone they didn't know.

The instant Kurt and the two officers were gone Blaine sagged against his desk, staring sightlessly across the room as he tried to process what had just happened.

_How could I not have seen this? _He thought, hysterically and heard Artie swear at the sight of the robotic like trance he was in. _He called me Cupcake constantly – Porcelain did that too._

He couldn't help his mind going back to the many times Porcelain had did that.

_He's an expert on everything criminal – white collar, assassination, theft – _fuck, _on our first case he told me what he thought Porcelain would do with the Jade Tiger that's probably what he _did _do – **how could I not have seen it?!**_

His mental rambling went on in this fashion even as Artie rolled over to him and tried to get his attention.

Finally he managed to get it by slapping him on the face.

Blaine didn't reach up to feel the smarting cheek but he did raise his eyes, focusing on Artie at last.

"What?" he croaked.

"Blaine, don't blame yourself-" Artie started and instantly Blaine snapped.

"Artie, how couldI _not _blame myself?" He moaned. "I'm meant to be the department's _expert _on Porcelain and I didn't even notice him right there under my nose. Artie, I _slept_ with the man without realising it._" _Blaine shook his head. "What am I going to do? _I'm his boyfriend."_

Artie nodded slowly.

"Well," he said, mulling over his words. "I guess there's your answer."

Blaine shook his head, his throat constricted. "What?" He asked, confused.

"On what you're going to do." Artie said, smiling slightly. "You said you're his boyfriend. In the present tense. As in, still."

Blaine stopped still. He had. And... Well, whilst he still felt betrayed, he _hadn't _broken up with Kurt and...Damn it all to hell, despite what he now knew he didn't want to.


	17. Chapter 16: (Im)Prisoned

**(A/N: Holy shit balls you guys, the amount of reviews on the last chapter was _insane_! Thank you all so so much, I'm glad you liked it!**

** Now, the reason for no update last week. The only copy I had of this chapter, which was finished and ready to be uploaded, had been corrupted and I had to rewrite it entirely! Thankfully, I now know better and have started uploading every chapter that I've already finished up to my Doc Manager :) Now, if that wasn't enough, the five pages I'd had written of the eighteenth chapter were also lost and I had to write _that _again too! Now that I've explained myself I hope you all can forgive me. Now, the chapter!  
**

* * *

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_Kurt snorted._

"_You are so _cheesey_!" He exclaimed and Blaine grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. _

"_You love it," he retorted quietly and Kurt smiled, kissing him again. _

"_Yeah," he murmured, worries still whispering in the back of his mind. Love, Kurt let the word seep through him. A strong word. Kurt thought, shivering slightly whether in fear, worry or excitement he didn't even know._

"_I think I must do."_

* * *

"_Yes, Rachel." he said sarcastically. "Five minutes into the relationship and I've told the man whose whole career has been chasing one criminal that I'm that criminal. Sure." he flicked her on the forehead sharply in reproach and she winced. _

"Ow_! Kurt-!" Rachel started but Kurt carried on, mindlessly. _

"_Of course I haven't told him!" He looked at her like she was crazy. "What do you take me for, suicidal?" _

_Rachel snorted. "I highly doubt he'd kill you, Kurt-"_

"_No, but I'd wish I was dead." Kurt snapped and then shut up, taken aback having said more than he'd wanted to. _

"_What?" Rachel sat up, and turned to look at him straight on. "Kurt, what do you mean by that?" She looked at him intensely. "Do you, do you think you _love_-" _

"_I don't know!" Kurt exclaimed loudly, running a hand down his face as he deflated. "I don't know what I think Rachel." he turned away from her, turning to look at the television which was playing the rerun of Castle they'd been ignoring. "All I know is," he continued quietly. "I really like him and I think it's going to kill me when he finds out I'm Porcelain."_

* * *

"_He _hates_ Porcelain." Kurt confessed. "I mean, I know that before when I knew him as Porcelain I teased him a lot but... He _hates_ me Rachel."_

* * *

"_Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," Blaine started, moving towards Kurt to pull his hands behind his back and handcuffing him. "You're being taken into custody on suspicion of committing multiple different crimes that place you as being behind and identifying as an infamous criminal; known to the public, police and media simply as 'Porcelain'."_

* * *

"_Blaine, don't blame yourself-" Artie started and instantly Blaine snapped. _

"_Artie, how could I not blame myself?" He moaned. "I'm meant to be the department's expert on Porcelain and I didn't even notice him right there under my nose. Artie, I _slept_ with the man without realising it." Blaine shook his head. "What am I going to do? _I'm his boyfriend_."_

_Artie nodded slowly. _

"_Well," he said, mulling over his words. "I guess there's your answer."_

_Blaine shook his head, his throat constricted. "What?" He asked, confused. _

"_On what you're going to do." Artie said, smiling slightly. "You said you're his boyfriend. In the present tense. As in, still."  
Blaine stopped still. He had. And... Well, whilst he still felt betrayed, he _hadn't_ broken up with Kurt and...Damn it all to hell, despite what he now knew he didn't want to._

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: (Im)Prisoned**

**Thirty Six Minutes After Kurt's Arrest:**

_**New York City Times**_

_**Porcelain Found: Underneath Anderson's Nose the Whole Time!**_

_Our source at the New York Police Department confirmed it,_

_at 5:34 this afternoon Kurt Hummel, the White Collar Crime department's criminal consultant,_

_and close friend of Detective Anderson , was taken into custody on suspicion of being the infamous art thief and white collar criminal Porcelain. _

_It's not yet known whether or not the relationship between Detective Anderson_

_and Hummel was strictly platonic, but our source assures us that it's only a matter of time _

_until the truth comes out._

* * *

**One Hour and Three Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

_**New York City Times**_

_**Anderson and Porcelain; Together!**_

_Our source came forward to confirm that it was common knowledge in the _

_White Collar Crime department at the New York Police Department headquarters _

_that Detective Anderson and Hummel, who we now know to be _

_Porcelain, were in a relationship.  
What we don't know is if Anderson knew of Hummel's _

_illegal extra curricular activities. _

_The NYPD have deigned to hold a press conference in a few hours _

_to clear up all confusion in this matter._

* * *

**One Hour and Forty Three Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

_**New York City Times**_

_**NYPD Scandal **_

_People have taken to call the business surrounding _

_the long awaited capture of the infamous criminal Porcelain a scandal, due to_

_the confirmed relationship between him and Detective Anderson, _

_the lead detective on his case. _

_What the public are begging to know now is, _

_can the detective be trusted after this? What does this mean for his career? _

_We'll find out at the press conference._

* * *

**Six Hours and Seventeen Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Kurt looked up from the newspaper articles Rachel had brought him.

He'd only been allowed visitors an hour before, and Rachel came as soon as she had heard about his arrest. He had no doubt that for the next two days his life - and sleeping schedule - would be fucked up.

The NYPD could only keep him in custody for forty eight hours, and if they didn't get proof of his being Porcelain they would have to let him go but Kurt knew that wouldn't be happening.

Blaine would have sent out for a search warrant by now, and if not he would soon. Not to mention call Rachel, Finn and any of the rest of his friends in to be interrogated. No, Blaine would get all the evidence he needed.

Kurt sighed and stretched, resigned to his fate.

It was then that he turned his attention back to his best friend, for the first time since she'd came in and wordlessly handed him the newspapers. Kurt cracked his neck.

Then he noticed Rachel was crying.

"Rachel-" He started, taken aback and immediately concerned.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry!" She wailed, sobbing. Kurt barely held back from rolling his eyes. Of course, he gets _arrested_ and she _still _manages to make it all about her."This is all my fault! If we hadn't insisted you and Blaine get together-!"

"Rachel, that's absolute bullshit." Kurt said flatly, his leg jigging up and down underneath the stainless steel of the table between them in his impatience. Rachel's hysteria was the last thing he needed at that point in time. "I've no doubt it would have happened eventually. Besides, I wouldn't give up the time I've spent with Blaine these few weeks for the world."

Rachel opened up her mouth to protest but Kurt paid no heed, carrying on immediately.

"No, that's not what we need to focus on." He stabbed his finger at the last article written in the New York City Times, feeling despair start to rise in him despite the fact he'd been managing to successfully suppress it until then. "Is Blaine all right?" Kurt asked desperately, his voice wavering slightly and Rachel blinked, shocked.

"_What_?" She asked, appalled.

"Is Blaine okay?" Kurt said, starting to get angry, his impatience growing two fold at her resistance in answering the question.

"Kurt, why do you care? He _arrested _you-"

"God damn it Rachel!" Kurt hissed, banging his fist down on the table in anger, not caring when Rachel jumped in shock and fear. "I _know _he arrested me! I was there!" Kurt ignored Rachel's look of concern and carried on talking, heedless of the knock that came on the front door of the visiting room that was adjacent to his holding cell, ignoring the guard stationed outside who was asking if everything was okay. "Rachel, the press and public are going to be hounding for Blaine's blood." Kurt said, his voice low and fast as he stared intently into Rachel's eyes, _needing _her to understand. "He's going to be attacked by them and no doubt by Sue and everyone else at the NYPD. Probably even the FBI. If he's lucky they'll just be questioning his ability to carry on this investigation without emotions getting in the way. If he's _not _lucky he'll be suspect of aiding a criminal to avoid the law. His friends will be turning on him. He's got no one on his side. He's my _boyfriend_ Rachel, and right now I can't be there for him!" Kurt blinked back tears of frustration and fear. "Just tell me if he's okay!"

Rachel shook her head. "Kurt, you're facing _prison_-"

Kurt glared at her and she huffed in frustration at his seemingly warped priorities.

"I think he's fine," she said quietly. "Artie told me he's been preparing for the press conference."

Kurt felt relief flood through him.

"Oh thank god," he breathed, slumping down now that his fears had been calmed and the exhaustion and surrealism of the past hours swum over him. "Artie's supporting him?" He asked, eyes boring into hers and she nodded.

"Okay," Kurt breathed, calming. "Okay." He looked at Rachel straight in the eye. "Rachel, I'm going to be arrested."

Rachel's eyes widened. "What?" she gasped, shaking her head in denial. "No! No, Kurt! Kurt you always have something up your sleeve!" His face was unchanging. "Just- just pull one of your tricks!"

Kurt carried on looking at her steadily. "Rachel, I've been planning for this for weeks." She shook her head once more, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm going to be arrested." He pressed on, ignoring her denial. "Blaine will send off for a search warrant of our apartment. He'll be granted one. Then he'll find the Dali I gave you, all my forgery's and my equipment. There's other things spread around the apartment as well Rachel, I've hidden more things than I can count at our place and there's no way you'll be able to recover them all and hide them before he manages to set up the warrant." He leant over the table to grab her shoulders, shaking them sternly, ensuring she was paying attention. "And I don't want you to." She'd been shaking her head mindlessly even as the hope she'd held for him being able to get out of it faded from her eyes, but at this her face paled at the realisation that Kurt was going to let this happen.

"Rachel," Kurt continued. "I've got a plan." Her head snapped to as she looked up from where she'd began to bow it. "I'm still going to be tried, and found guilty. But I _won't _go to jail." He maintained eye-contact to assure her of his being truthful. "I promise."

Rachel nodded, wiping her eyes.

"But I need you to comply with the police." Kurt said, still staring intently at her. "Answer their questions truthfully, even if they ask you straight out if I'm Porcelain. Co-operating with the police will ensure that nothing happens to you and you don't get sentenced along with me for aiding a criminal."

"Okay," she breathed, breathing deeply and began to speak again, before being interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Times up," Kurt murmured, eyes shooting to the door and back to Rachel's face. "Rachel, I need you to do something for me."

Rachel nodded. "Anything," she promised, eyes watering once more.

Kurt smiled slightly. "Always so reckless," he noted softly before shaking his head. Now was not the time. He reached across the table to hand Rachel a bit of folded paper.

The knock sounded at the door again.

"No time," he said quickly. He nodded to the paper. "It's all there," he promised, eyes flashing. "Hide it." He hissed. Rachel wouldn't be allowed out with anything Kurt gave her. Kurt wasn't even _supposed _to be giving his visitors things. "Go."

Rachel nodded, quickly shoved the small square of folded paper into her bra and then she lent across to hug Kurt quickly.

"Love you, Kurt." she whispered, kissing his cheek.

"Love you too, Rach." He whispered back, pushing her away. "Now go."

* * *

**Six Hours and Seventeen Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Round about the same time Kurt was finishing up reading the articles Rachel had brought him Blaine was in his office, head in his hands and trying his hardest to stay calm before his press conference that was only an hour or so away.

He'd sent out for the search warrant. It was one of the first things he'd done since he'd handcuffed Kurt, sent him to the holding cells and had a break down in front of one of his best friends. He'd arranged for Rachel to come in to be interrogated, and she'd agreed on the condition that she got to see Kurt.

He'd agreed.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait.

Everyone else in the department had been eyeing him sympathetically, staring at him through the glass wall of his office until he'd pulled the blinds. Yet he didn't care about the attention. Didn't care about the people questioning his credibility. He didn't even care that Sue was angry at him for being in a relationship with Kurt without informing her. None of that stuff mattered to him. But knowing that some of his colleagues distrusted him, didn't believe that Kurt had played him and thought he'd been assisting him, that made him feel like absolute crap.

He couldn't help but think back on the way Kurt's back had stiffened when he's accused him of being Porcelain. The look on his face as he looked over his shoulder when he was being taken away, something Blaine had only managed to get a quick glimpse of before his mind crashed and he collapsed to the floor.

Blaine buried his hands in his hair, fists kneading against his scalp futilely as he tried to drive out the thoughts of Kurt's look of sorrow and regret when he'd been pulled out of the room by Sam and Mike.

Blaine looked at his watch dejectedly and sighed through his nose in frustration. He still had twenty minutes before he got to question Rachel.

_**That means she's been in with Kurt for five minutes.**_ A little voice whispered to him from the back of his head. _**She could tell you if he's okay- **_

Blaine brought a quick halt to that thought.

_No. No. I don't care if he's okay. _He spat in return. _The bastard _played _me!_

That little voice spoke up again. _**Bastard?** _It questioned. _**Funny**__. _It said dryly. **_I could have sworn that you were in love with him. _**

_Ha. _Blaine snorted. _Right. _

Blaine forced himself to begin typing up a report on his computer.

_As if I could love someone who lied to me._

* * *

**Six Hours and Thirty One Minutes After Kurt's Arrest:**

Rachel walked out of the visitors room and began walking down the hall to the elevator, pressing a hand to her mouth as her shoulders quaked with sobs.

Seeing Kurt like that. Detained. _Captured. _It really brought it home to her that it was over. That Kurt wasn't invincible. She felt more than saw Artie pull up beside her and start wheeling in time with her short, but quick, strides. He didn't try to talk to her, for that she was grateful, and when they stepped into the elevator she was ready to speak to him.

"Hey Artie," she sniffed, trying to smile.

"Hi Rach," he replied, and reached up to hand her a packet of tissues, which she took thankfully, mopping up her face. "Are you okay?"

Rachel breathed shakily. "Yeah," she said wetly. "It's just hard you know? I didn't think..."

"You didn't think he'd ever get caught?" Artie continued and Rachel nodded, sniffling. They rode the elevator in silence for a few minutes, the floors going by slowly.

"How's he doing?" Artie asked finally and Rachel shrugged, still sniffing a little.

"Okay," she allowed, wiping her nose with a tissue. "Better than I thought."

Artie nodded. "That's good."

They didn't speak for another minute or so.

"Artie?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you..."

He looked up at her. "Why don't I hate Kurt?" He asked and she nodded. "Well," he said, as they arrived at the ground floor and walked out. Artie was her escort to her questioning. "It's not really his fault." Rachel looked at him in shock and he laughed a little as he led her down a few corridors. "Don't look so surprised." He chided, grinning. "It's not like he _asked _to be Blaine's criminal consultant. I mean, he didn't really have a choice. It's not like he knew he'd get together with Blaine. I can hardly blame him."

Rachel snorted. "I did," He shot her a look. "Knew he'd get together with Blaine." she clarified, shaking her head. "Ever since he came home after their meeting at the masquerade ball that the Addler's threw five years ago or so. I could tell that Blaine had got to him." She shot him a look.

"You know, when Kurt sent Blaine with a note to assign him as the head detective on his cases?" she added.

* * *

**Five Years Earlier (Give or take a few months): **

_Rachel's head snapped up when she heard the front door open and then shut. _

_Instantly she was up out of her seat at the kitchen, where she'd been drinking tea and waiting up for Kurt to come home. She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, glaring at Kurt with her arms crossed (for the most part) across her chest, a little awkwardly as she still held her mug of tea in her hand. _

_"And what time do you call this?" She asked, her eyebrow raised as she took a slow sip from her mug. _

_Kurt sighed, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, finally relaxing as the adrenaline that came with pulling off a heist faded. _

"_Sorry I'm so late, Rach." he muttered, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek as he passed her to get to the kitchen. "I bumped into that detective again," he tossed over his shoulder in an attempt of nonchalance and she rose her other eyebrow. Wow. Something had happened. _

"_Oh?" Rachel asked cautiously. _

_"Yeah," he shook his head, snorting. "He was there without backup."_

"_That wasn't too clever of him." Rachel said slowly, eyeing him. He was behaving strangely. _

"_Oh, I don't know." Kurt shrugged, trying to be casual, searching the fridge for milk. "He managed to find out where I was." _

"_Mmhmm." Rachel said, still looking at him. _

_Kurt finally seemed to catch on that he was being assessed and when he turned and saw her sceptical expression he scoffed. _

"_I don't _like _him or anything." he defended, unwarranted and defensive without really needing to be, and Rachel nodded. _

"_Sure you don't." She said, turning around to head to bed. "Whatever Kurt." She called behind her. "Good night."_

* * *

"So..." Artie said, as they walked unhurriedly to the interrogation room. "What did Kurt say?" He asked. "At one point it seemed to get very heated..."

Rachel shook her head.

"Oh, that was my fault." She admitted. "He'd asked me how Blaine was doing and I wasn't telling him.." Her eyes softened. "He was really concerned."

Artie eyed her in confusion. "Why did he ask about Blaine?"

Rachel shot him a look that said that she thought it was obvious why. "Well, the press are going nuts." she said matter-of-factly. "And Kurt's worried that no one's supporting him, and everyone's turning on him. He said, and I quote, "Rachel, the press and public are going to be hounding for Blaine's blood. He's going to be attacked by them and no doubt by Sue and everyone else at the NYPD. Probably even the FBI. If he's lucky they'll just be questioning his ability to carry on this investigation without emotions getting in the way. If he's _not _lucky he'll be suspect of aiding a criminal to avoid the law. His friends will be turning on him. He's got no one on his side, he's my _boyfriend_ Rachel and right now I can't be there for him! Just tell me if he's okay!"'

Coming to a stop outside of the room she was to be questioned in, Rachel turned to Artie and saw how completely shocked he was.

_Well, _she thought, incredibly pleased with herself. _That's definitely going to be getting back to Blaine. _

"How'd you remember all that?" He asked, so shocked that he asked the first thing that came to mind.

Rachel grinned sheepishly, shrugging. "You pick it up when you have to learn hundred page scripts off by heart for a living." She smiled at him shakily. "Bye Artie," she said, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek before presenting herself to the officers standing outside the room.

"Bye," Artie replied weakly, no doubt thinking on what she had said.

* * *

**Six Hours and Thirty Six Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Blaine sat inside the interrogation room, waiting for Rachel to be cleared by the officers outside.

Finally they let her in, and she was led to the chair on the other side of the stainless steel table.

"Right," Blaine said, ignoring her and moving to turn on the recorder. "For the record, Detective Blaine Anderson questioning a Miss Rachel Berry on the subject of the Porcelain Investigation. The date is..."

He carried on stating everything that was needed for the beginning of the recording and assessed Rachel with his eyes.

He couldn't help but wonder if she'd been part of the scam too. If she'd been helping Kurt play him.

"Okay," he said, finishing up and turning to Rachel. "Please state your name for the record," he told her and she lent forward in order to get closer to the microphone.

"Rachel Berry," she said.

"Your date of birth?"

Again he thought on other things when asking these routine questions, all for the record. Once he'd gotten her date of birth, where she was born and where she was currently living he was able to move on to the good stuff, that was needed to convict – he winced just thinking his name – Kurt.

"Have you known Mr Hummel for a long time?" He asked and Rachel nodded.

"Yes," she stated, leaning forward once again. "We went to high school together and then moved to New York together. We've been room mates since coming to the city."

Blaine nodded. "And did you know Mr Hummel was a criminal?" He asked.

"Yes,"

Blaine nodded once again, even as a fresh wave of anger went over him at the admission.

"Do you know how he got started?" He asked and was shocked when Rachel laughed.

"Oh, you bet I do." She said, still chuckling. "It was in high school," Rachel started up and Blaine knew she was going to be telling another story from Kurt's past, like the one when he and Sebastian met. He couldn't help but settle in to listen, the fact that this was an official police investigation momentarily being forgotten.

"When we were in high school Kurt was bullied a lot." Rachel had said. "I mean, I was too – which is probably why we initially became friends – but not as badly as Kurt. I mean, he was gay in_ Ohio_." she said, shaking her head. "He had no chance at all. Even when he hadn't came out it was just assumed, and people always harassed him for it."

Rachel lent forward at this, her eyes shining.

"However," she said, dramatically. "Even after that first initial dumpster toss, stuff began to happen to Kurt's bullies." She shrugged. "They'd shove him into lockers on their way past him in the hallway, the next day the most embarrassing piece of underwear they possessed would be flying on the school's flag pole." Blaine felt his jaw drop and when Rachel saw it she laughed. "I know, right?" she said, delighted. "They'd call him names, he's pickpocket them and steal their wallets."

She shrugged again. "It was just a thing he did, you know?" She said casually, "Just a quirk. And through high school he discovered he had a knack for it. Then when we went to New York he would-" she shook her head, and Blaine knew she was going to go off on a tangent and he shot her look, one that let her know that unless it was relevant to the conversation she needed to cut it short." Sorry." She said, sounding anything but, and got back on track.

"It's expensive to live in New York, you know? So, we both got jobs, so that we could support ourselves alongside the money our parents had sent us with, juggling the work hours with our school schedules. But soon, it wasn't enough. _I _was fine," she assured him, a little smugly if Blaine was completely honest. "I mean, my parents are old Broadway stars. They had more than enough money to send on, and I'm not as proud as Kurt about finances. I was more than happy to let my parents support me for a little while longer. Kurt, as you can imagine, was less so." she looked at him knowingly, rolling her eyes and a feeling of comrade swept over him. "_You _know how Kurt gets about those kind of things." Without his consent Blaine felt himself nod. "Anyway, he didn't go to his dad and step mom, Carol, for help. He didn't want to. And then he remembered his prowess for pick-pocketing and picking locks, his old talent from high school." She shrugged. "It's not like I liked him doing it. When I first found out I yelled at him for _hours._ But you do what you can to survive."

Blaine eyed her. "Are you telling me the full story?" he asked cautiously. "There's no way that Mr Hummel could become a criminal as talented as Porcelain with just high school knowledge."

Rachel nodded. "That's true. No, he got training. It's not hard to find people willing to teach you their skills as long as you look hard enough and prove yourself. I mean, he joined the circus at one point to hone his aerial skills when pulling off heists." She smiled. "He was already pretty good from taking gymnastics since he was little," she added.

Blaine's eyes widened minutely and he kicked himself mentally once again. _Of course he didn't just up and join the circus, _he thought to himself, thinking back on what had happened a month or so ago, when Kurt had taken him to the circus because he'd needed a break. Once again he cursed himself for not seeing it, for not seeing that Kurt was Porcelain.

"So, Mr Hummel is Porcelain?" Blaine said, making sure for the record.

Rachel nodded. "Yes."

* * *

**Six Hours and Fifty Four Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

The rest of the interrogation went much the same way. Blaine asked Rachel questions relevant to the investigation, and to ensure that Kurt was Porcelain so that he could get arrested.

Blaine sat and watched as Rachel got out of her seat and left, making her own way out. He'd turned off the recorder a minute or so before.

Blaine didn't move, just thinking on what he had learnt. From what Rachel had told him when he questioned her, mostly just stories from before Blaine knew Kurt as Kurt and not Porcelain, Kurt was still the same as he knew him.

"Blaine?" Artie asked.

Blaine looked up from where he was staring at a coffee ring on the stainless steel table to where Artie sat in his wheelchair in the door way.

Blaine felt himself nodding in indication he'd heard him.

"Right." He said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "The press conference. How long do I have?" He asked.

"Ten minutes or so." Artie said, looking over Blaine worriedly. "You've got more than enough time to walk across the quad and get a coffee before heading back to C Building."

The NYPD headquarters was really more of a 'campus' (for lack of a better word) than just a single gigantic building and was split up into five or so smaller buildings. A Building, B Building, C Building and so on. Each building had different uses. For instance, the holding cells, interrogation rooms and hall where the NYPD held their press conferences were all in C Building, the smallest of the five buildings that made up the head quarters.

Blaine's department was on one of six floors in B Building, which also had the main cafeteria for the headquarters and was the nearest place to get decent coffee and make it back in time for the conference.

Blaine nodded. "Okay." He shot Artie a look. "You coming with me?"

Artie shrugged. "Sure. I might slow you down a little though."

Blaine pulled a face, standing up slowly from his chair, wincing as his entire body ached. It had been a long day already, and he knew that he probably wouldn't rest for much longer than a few hours in the next two days. "I don't really care if I'm late for the press conference. It will take at least ten minutes to get everyone in any way."

Blaine sighed a little, approaching the door and stopping to let Artie go through first.

They walked and rolled silently for a few minutes and it was only once they'd exited the building and made their way across the quad to get to the cafeteria in Building B that Blaine spoke again.

"Have you been to see Kurt?" He asked quietly.

Artie shot him a look. "No. I was there when Rachel saw him through."

Blaine nodded, steeling himself. "How do you think he's doing?"

Artie shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Blaine knew that he didn't like to be in the middle, and hated that he was forcing his best friend to be. He knew that Artie was Kurt's friend too.

"Rachel says he's doing okay."

Blaine shook his head, snorted.

"He's not doing okay."

Artie frowned at him, going the opposite way to Blaine when they got to the fountain, which came in between them, and wheeling around it before speaking again. "Why do you say that?" He asked.

Blaine glanced at Artie.

"Artie, Rachel _told _me that Kurt was Porcelain when I questioned her. She wouldn't do that without Kurt saying it was okay to do so." He shook his head, "He's giving up." he said quietly.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Blaine smirked a little at Artie's ignorance.

"You'd think so." He sighed. "No. No it's not. Because, even though I apparently don't know Kurt as well as I thought I did, I _do _know Porcelain. And Porcelain always has a plan. If he's giving in easily he has a reason to do so."

Artie nodded, looking thoughtful.

"You know, Rachel said Kurt _yelled _at her."

Blaine pulled a face. "That's not like Kurt." he mused. "Do you know why?" He asked Artie and he nodded.

"Yeah." Artie admitted. "Rachel wouldn't tell him how you were doing."

Blaine tripped, managing to keep his footing just barely, shocked. He could feel it was showing on his face.

"W-what?" He choked.

Artie nodded. "Yeah. When I asked her what he had said Rachel told me, and I quote 'Rachel, the press and public are going to be hounding for Blaine's blood. He's going to be attacked by them and no doubt by Sue and everyone else at the NYPD. Probably even the FBI. If he's lucky they'll just be questioning his ability to carry on this investigation without emotions getting in the way. If he's _not _lucky he'll be suspect of aiding a criminal to avoid the law. His friends will be turning on him. He's got no one on his side, he's my _boyfriend_ Rachel and right now I can't be there for him! Just tell me if he's okay!'" Artie shook his head, grinning slightly. "I had to write down what she said immediately after she said it to remember," he admitted.

If there were a chair near him, Blaine would have sunk down into it. As it was he just barely managed to keep himself standing.

"Oh my god," he choked out, shocked. Once it wore off affection swelled over him, suffocatingly strong as he felt warmth bubble up in his stomach.

_That's not what you'd think someone who was faking a relationship would say to one of his best friends when he has no reason to. _The little voice inside of him said smugly, the part of Blaine that was devastatingly _Kurt's _and the part of himself that Blaine could barely control.

Blaine tried to shake off the feeling and thoughts as they made their way into B Building, towards the cafeteria.

His press conference was in six minutes. He needed to focus.

* * *

**Seven Hours and Twenty One Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

"...he is currently being held in one of our best holding cells. A search warrant has been applied for and the suspects room mate has been questioned. This is all for formalities sake only, we are certain that Mr Hummel is Porcelain."

The reporter who had asked the question nodded, "Thank you," she said, sitting and pausing her hand held recorder.

Sue sighed, looking around the room. "Next question." She demanded and a blonde reporter at the front of the hall stood up.

"Regina Phalange, New York City Times." The reporter said. "My question is for Detective Anderson. What response do you have to the claims that you and Mr Hummel were in a relationship prior to his arrest, and do you think that this relationship will compromise your judgement in this investigation?"

Sue looked like she was about to breathe fire and Blaine sighed. Whilst she was a bitch to everyone pretty much all the time, she was incredibly protective over those in her department. She could be rude and disrespectful to them, but she'd die before letting anyone else get away in doing so.

"Detective Anderson-" She started heatedly but Blaine interrupted, raising a hand and glancing over to where she was sat next to him.

"Sue, it's okay." He murmured to her quietly, then turned to address the reporter. "Whether or not Mr Hummel and I were in a relationship has no relevance to this press conference, which is purely to answer questions on the status of the Porcelain investigation. And as to whether I think this supposed 'relationship' will compromise my judgement in the investigation I have to say that were I to have been in a relationship with the suspect I would not let that interfere with my work and professionalism." He smirked wryly. "I've been after this bastard for five years Ms Phalange," his eyes shined, even as he forced the words. "I'd die before letting him get away now."

Some of the people laughed and the reporter's face flushed a little.

When it was clear that Blaine wasn't going to say anything further on this subject the reporter nodded and sat down, shame faced. "Thank you." she said quietly.

Blaine nodded, forcing a smile as he gritted his teeth. The conference had only been going on for thirty minutes or so and he already wanted it to be over. The reporter from the New York City Times was not the first questioning his relationship with Kurt and to be completely honest he was getting tired of it.

He forced another smile on his face when the next question was once again for him, even as he was counting down the minutes until he was allowed to go back to his office.

* * *

**Eight Hours and Fifty Seven Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Blaine stopped himself in the middle of pacing for the seventh time since the press conference had ended an hour or so before.

He'd raced back to his office, avoiding the reporters and journalists that tried to pull him aside for a one on one interview, and since then had tried to keep busy and stop himself from thinking about Kurt, who was all alone and only a five minute walk away from him.

At the end of the press conference Sue had pulled him aside to inform him he'd been given clearance to visit Kurt if he so wished and he'd been unable to keep himself from thinking about that fact since then.

He caught himself checking the clock and cursed himself.

_Screw it, _he thought angrily, grabbing the Hot Orange Chocolate from his desk and making his way out of his office.

The hot chocolates had started turning up every half hour or so since the press conference, the first arriving right in the middle of it, with a note stuck on the side.

Thankfully it was illegible from the seats that the reporters were sitting in, otherwise it would be over the front cover of every newspaper in New York before breakfast, but Sue had managed to get a glimpse of it and hadn't stopped smirking and eyeing him knowingly since.

The note had said;

_Still your favourite? _

_- Porcelain x_

And every note since then then had said something similar, always an inside joke and more often than not _incredibly _suggestive. The only big difference (besides contents) being sometimes it alternated between saying Porcelain or Kurt. The disturbing thing was that it was written in Kurt's handwriting.

_No doubt he convinced Rachel to send these to me. _He thought, then snorted. _I'm probably going to carry on getting one every half hour 'til Kurt's trial._

He tried in vain not to think on the fact that he'd begun thinking of him as Kurt again.

Five minutes later Blaine found himself in front of Kurt's holding cell.

Looking at the poor security, easily picked lock on the door, a slot for ID cards to be swiped to let those with clearance into the room (and Blaine knew that Kurt would be able to gain access to an ID with that clearance easily enough) and just a single guard in front of the room, with a pistol and taser, both easy to take without the guard feeling a thing Blaine knew that Kurt was still in custody because he chose to be.

_He really has given up. _Blaine thought in wonder. Unsurprisingly that thought didn't make him feel any better.

When the guard saw him he eyed him suspiciously and Blaine rolled his eyes, holding up his ID card.

"Detective Blaine Anderson," he snapped. "I've got clearance to visit the suspect."

The guard keep an eye on him but nonetheless moved aside him to let him slide his card into the lock under the handle.

His breath caught when it beeped to let him in and he took a few deep steadying ones to get his courage. Then, he pushed open the door.

* * *

**Nine Hours and Four Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Kurt stared at the ceiling as he lay on his cot.

Unsurprisingly, he was bored. There wasn't really much to do in a holding cell. All he could do really was wait for visitors and news from the outside world. Artie had popped down an hour or so before to let him know that Blaine was in a press conference, and he'd been getting his Hot Orange Chocolates.

That was what had been on the paper he gave Rachel, among other instructions. He'd given her directions to a box full of little calling cards that he'd prepared for when he was taken into custody. Each had a little message for Blaine to be delivered with a Hot Orange Chocolate every half hour.

He felt that he should do this as a way at _starting _to apologise for deceiving Blaine.

Kurt sighed, and began to count mentally again. He'd already done this three times, getting well into the thousands before losing count.

He jumped when he heard voices outside of his cell.

"_Detective Blaine Anderson," _the familiar voice snapped and Kurt's heart skipped a beat, even as warmth swept through his body at the sound. _"I have clearance to visit the suspect." _

Kurt scrambled up to a sitting position on his cot, hardly believing his ears.

He stopped breathing at the sound of an ID card being slid through the door of his cell and the resulting _beep beep beep _that sounded when the man outside was granted access.

Kurt lent forward in anticipation as the door opened, slowly revealing the man that Kurt had come to know intimately in the last five months.

He rose to his feet, his heart aching at the sight of the man that stepped through the door and firmly shut it after him, who then turned around to the sight of Kurt standing and staring with wide eyes as he moved further into the room.

_God I love him. _Kurt thought desperately.

"Blaine," He breathed.

* * *

**(A/N: Fyi, Hot Orange Chocolate now has enough relevance in this story to deserve capital letters :D So don't get annoyed, as that particular beverage will be popping up continuously in the next few chapters. **

_Next time on A Game of Cat and Mouse: _

_"Why?" Blaine asked quietly and Kurt could barely hear him. "Why shouldn't I leave?" _

_"Because," Kurt's breath caught. "I love you," he whispered, his admittance coming out as a sob, and if anything Blaine seemed to freeze up more._


	18. Chapter 17: Quesas

**A/N: Hey everyone. I just came home from a week in Wales and immediately set out to editing this and getting it up straight away. (Seriously, I got in at quarter to seven, as I'm writing this authors note it's half past.) So, feel special dear readers. I hope you enjoy this chapter :) **

**Just a recommendation, as I was editing this Darren and Chris' version of Come What May came on my ipod. So if you feel like getting sentimental, I'd recommend listening to it when reading this chapter. It would help put you in a better mindset of how Blaine's feeling at the moment - how, though he knows who Kurt is now, he'll love him no matter what and no matter what comes. **

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_He rose to his feet, his heart aching at the sight of the man that stepped through the door and firmly shut it after him, who then turned around to the sight of Kurt standing and staring with wide eyes as he moved further into the room. _

God I love him_. Kurt thought._

"Blaine_," He breathed._

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Quesas**

**Nine Hours and Four Minutes After Kurt's Arrest:**

Kurt couldn't seem to stop looking at Blaine, his eyes drinking in the sight of him even as he held himself back from jumping at him to pull him into an embrace. His body ached with the effort it took not to do so and he could barely keep it from showing on his face.

It was silent in the room for all but the sound of his and Blaine's breathing and the sound of Kurt's heart beat ringing his ears. He wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Blaine could hear it.

"Blaine," Kurt managed to repeat, this time louder and less pathetically. Blaine's eyes snapped to his. "Are you all right?" imploringly he asked the question he'd been dying to know the answer to since he'd been taken into custody - Rachel's meager supply of knowledge no where near enough. Blaine's mouth opened as if he were to speak and then shut again, without him saying anything.

Resigned to the fact that Blaine wasn't going to answer him Kurt decided to just sit and look. He probably wouldn't get much opportunity to look at Blaine for a long, _long _time after his trial (which he knew would be happening. Blaine would be able to get evidence proving he was Porcelain.) if not forever if things didn't go to plan. So he was more than happy to look his fill.

"Was it-" Kurt snapped to attention at the sound of Blaine's voice. "Was it all a game?" Blaine took a deep breath, "Our relationship," he clarified, just about managing to get it out, his expression guarded. Kurt immediately shook his head, his eyes despairing as he took in the fact that Blaine thought he'd been playing him.

"No," Kurt moaned, his heart aching. "_No_," He shook his head. "Blaine I-"

A look from Blaine was enough to shut him up and nothing was said for a long time before Blaine took in a deep breath and turned his back on Kurt, heading to the door.

"Coming here was a mistake," he managed. "I shouldn't have-"

"No!" Kurt exclaimed, rising from his bunk to stretch out a hand, almost as if to reach out and stop him physically. "No, don't go."

Blaine stopped, his shoulders tense and he didn't say a word in response. But he didn't leave.

For what felt an age they stood there like that. Kurt, extending his hand out to Blaine as if to halt him and Blaine, his back turned on Kurt in a frozen and frigid stance.

"Why?" Blaine asked quietly, Kurt could barely hear him. "Why shouldn't I leave?"

"Because," Kurt's breath caught, the desperate _need _to tell him the depth of his feelings having overtaken him finally, as they'd been threatening to do from the moment Blaine entered his cell. "I love you," he whispered, his admittance coming out as a sob and if anything Blaine seemed to freeze up more.

"If you love me," Blaine choked on the word as it seemed to catch on it's way up his throat. "then why didn't you tell me you were _Porcelain_?" Blaine spat out the last word and Kurt's heart just about broke with the amount of hate Blaine had infused in saying it.

"I-" Kurt couldn't continue, couldn't say what he desperately wanted to say because, whilst he was resigned to the fact that he'd be put in prison if things didn't go his way, he didn't want to _give _them his arrest (if anything that would make Blaine even more suspicious than he undoubtedly already was) and saying what he wanted would do that. At least, that's what he wanted to believe. To be completely honest, Kurt knew that he wasn't good admitting his feelings, or telling someone the complete truth about those feelings - which wasn't too surprising considering his profession.

_I was afraid you'd leave me. _

_I didn't want to get arrested. _

_I thought you'd think less of me. _

_I thought you'd hate me. _

The words that he wanted, but was too scared, to say flashed across his mind but he couldn't.

They stayed there for a few minutes in silence before Blaine let out a sigh, turning and leaning against the steel door, only to slide down and sit braced against it, his knees raised.

Kurt sunk back down on the cot, perching on the edge as he stared at Blaine, hardly able to believe that the man that he, he could barely think it so he had no idea how he'd managed to _say _it so easily before, _loved _was sitting there in front of him.

The silence continued and five minutes became ten. Ten became fifteen. Then, Kurt broke the quiet.

"Do you remember the case we had a few weeks ago? After we got together?" he asked quietly and saw Blaine's eyes flicker. "With the copy cat criminal?"

Blaine's eyes flashed and a muscle in his eyebrow ticked.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Do you remember when you asked me why I was so smug?" Kurt asked and Blaine nodded slightly. "I wanted to tell you so badly then." He admitted and Blaine looked at him in shock.

"Then why didn't you?" he asked, hurt and betrayal in his voice, and Kurt shook his head, tears stinging in his eyes.

"I couldn't." He said as he stared helplessly at Blaine, who obviously didn't buy it and was receding into himself even further.

They didn't talk for another few minutes and Blaine eventually stood up and left.

Kurt stared after him mournfully and when he felt tears gather in his eyes he did nothing to stop them from spilling over and trickling down his cheeks.

He lay down on his bed and sunk into a restless sleep, the first time he'd slept since the evening before his arrest.

* * *

**Nine Hours And Forty Seven Minutes After Kurt's Arrest:**

_Did you get what you wanted out of that visit? _Blaine asked himself angrily, cradling his left hand with his right and wincing as flickers of pain stabbed through it. The first thing he'd done after leaving Kurt's holding cell was go to the first deserted corridor he could find and punch the wall as hard as he could. _Did that satisfy your_ craving_, you masochistic bastard_?

He couldn't stop remembering what Kurt had looked like.

He'd look shrunken, in horrible clothes that he knew under normal circumstances his boyfriend wouldn't be caught dead in. He'd had dark circles under his eyes, his skin was paler than usual and overall he just looked exhausted.

Broken.

_Haunted._

Blaine couldn't shake the feeling that if he didn't have work and friends to distract him that he would be looking pretty similar to the way Kurt had when he'd gone to see him, if not worse.

"Blaine?" Came from the other end of the corridor. Blaine wheeled around and wasn't shocked at the sight of Artie, rolling towards him in his wheel chair.

"Yeah?" He got out.

"Um, I got the answer to your request for a search warrant for Kurt's apartment," Artie offered and Blaine didn't quite manage to stop himself from flinching at Kurt's name spoken aloud.

"Great," he said curtly. "What did it say?"

Artie looked at Blaine sadly. "It approved," he said, reluctantly. "The warrant will be ready in ten hours or so, maybe more if some complications come up."

Blaine nodded.

"But before-"

"Before the forty eight hours are up," Artie finished. "Yeah."

Blaine nodded again, blinking back sudden tears.

"Good," he said, face blank.

* * *

**Ten Hours and Thirty Two Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Kurt woke up and, looking at the watch he'd been supplied (also from the lost and found. It was a mickey mouse watch, obviously made for a child, and it was about as tight as his tracking bracelet had been, on his already incredibly skinny wrist), saw he'd been asleep for a little over an hour.

His mind went to Blaine and Kurt looked longingly after where Blaine had left his holding cell.

Blaine had barely _looked _at him throughout the visit and that knowledge tore at his heart.

To distract himself he thought back to the case he'd reminded Blaine of during their... 'visit'.

* * *

**_A few weeks earlier. After Kurt and Blaine had gotten together:_**

_Kurt shook his head in amusement, staring at Blaine. _

"_Sorry, _what?_" Kurt asked sceptically, unsure if he'd heard correctly, and Blaine shot Kurt a look._

"_Kurt, this is the third time now-" Blaine said, obviously annoyed. _

"_I know, I know," Kurt assured, sending Blaine a pleading look. "Just – one more time. I swear," _

_Blaine sighed. _

"_There's been a sudden flux of white collar crime in New York," Blaine began again. "And all of them have been executed in the same style as Porcelain. However," Blaine said, shooting Kurt a look as if to determine whether or not he was listening properly. "As some of these crimes have happened within ten minutes of each other whilst occurring on opposite ends of the city we've deduced that they've been committed by a series of copycat criminals."_

_Kurt felt a smirk spread across his face unwittingly. _

_Copycat artists. Copying _him_. _His_ M.O. _

_Kurt couldn't help but feel exceedingly flattered._

You know you've made it in the art crime world, _Kurt thought, _when you've got _multiple_ copycats.

_Blaine shot Kurt a look. _

"_Are you okay?" He asked, wary of another repeat request. _

_Kurt shook his head. _

"_No, yeah. I'm good," Kurt tried to wipe the cat who got the canary smirk off of his face but it was incredibly difficult. _

_He couldn't help but feel the need to _brag _about this to someone. Brag about the fact that he had _copycats. _He caught himself opening his mouth, the words about to crawl their way up his throat. _

What are you doing, you moron? _Kurt thought to himself angrily, frustrated about what he'd come so close to revealing just then and all because he'd wanted to _brag. _Something that he _knew _was what fucked most criminals over in the long run._ _The near miss sobered him up and, thankfully, the self importance passed. _

_However the need to tell Blaine about him being Porcelain didn't. _

_Kurt gritted his teeth. _

**Do you want to **_**ruin **_**everything you've managed to achieve so far?** _He asked himself, annoyed. _**Do you want to lose **_**Blaine**_**?**_ Kurt's heart twinged at that and Kurt's inner voice sounded smug the next time it sounded in his head. _**Yeah, didn't think so.**

But, _Kurt thought, tentatively making an argument. _Wouldn't it be better if Blaine finds out from me? From me _telling-_

**No!** _The inner voice Kurt identified as Porcelain snapped back. _

_Kurt sighed and Blaine shot him a concerned look. _

"_Hey," he said. "You sure you okay?" _

_Kurt forced a smile, quickly putting his indecision out of mind, determined to make himself believe he was making the right decision in not telling Blaine. "Yeah, I'm fine," _

What were you thinking? _He chastised himself. _I'm glad that I have _some _self preservation left.

"_Why do you look so smug?" Blaine's question brought his attention back from his thoughts and the need to tell Blaine the truth sprung up again, fresh. _

"_No reason," Kurt choked out. _

_Blaine didn't look convinced but let it go and the conversation moved on, Kurt trying to swallow down his stupid emotions._

Kurt sighed and, lying back down on the bunk, decided to try and get a bit more sleep.

* * *

**Eleven Hours and Twelve Minutes After Kurt's Arrest:**

Blaine rubbed his eyes as he looked at his watch.

It was nearly five in the morning. He shook his head, blinking back his fatigue.

_God, I'm tired_ Blaine thought, sighing as he forced himself to continue drinking his most recent hot orange chocolate. It was cold now, he'd only gotten two more after that first one at the press conference, considering it was so late.

He had no idea how Kurt had managed to get '_the Lima Bean' _to deliver those first three in the first place, it was already late then.

_Probably a bribe. _He thought, feeling fond amusement spring up in him reluctantly. _Or maybe he owed them a favour. _He mused, blinking at the computer screen blearily. _He_ is _a regular. _

A thought occurred to him suddenly.

_I wonder what their reactions were when the saw his picture in the paper. _Blaine wondered. He knew that whilst they may not necessarily recognise his name they _would_ recognise his picture. _It would be sad if at the end of all of this Kurt wouldn't be able to go to '_the Lima Bean'_ anymore. _

Blaine's eyes widened at that thought.

_He won't be getting out of prison for at least a decade. _He chided to himself. 'The Lima Bean'_ might not even be there by the time he gets out. _

Blaine groaned in frustration, fisting his eyes in exhaustion. He'd love to chalk it up to his tiredness that he'd forgotten momentarily that Kurt was going to be arrested.

_Fuck this, _he thought, shutting his computer down and turning off his desk lamp, settling down on his sofa to try and get some sleep. _I _need _sleep. It's not like there's anything I can do at the moment anyway. Not until the search warrant arrives._

* * *

**Eleven Hours and Thirty One Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Twenty minutes later and Blaine was still awake. He'd tried to fall asleep. He had counted sheep. He'd warmed up the rest of his hot orange chocolate, hoping the warm drink would help. But, despite how tired he was, he simply couldn't get Kurt out of his head.

How reluctantly hopeful he'd looked when he'd said he loved him.

How broken he looked when Blaine hadn't said it back, _despite how much he'd wanted to. _

Blaine sat up on the sofa and clutched his hair in desperation, feeling like he was going insane. There he was, losing sleep over the fact that his _criminal _boyfriend, who'd _probably _been playing him from the start - _he said he wasn't, _that traitorous inner voice spoke up timidly - had been hurt that he'd not repeated his words of love back to him .

_Fuck it. _He thought once again, firmer this time and decidedly more deranged.

Five minutes later saw him outside of Kurt's holding cell.

"Hey," he whispered to the guard outside his door. They must have changed at some point because instead of the dick of a guard he'd seen before, Mike Chang was there. Someone he was actually kind of friends with. "What did you do to get the short straw?"

Mike chuckled. "Lost a bet," he whispered back.

They stood there quietly for a few moments, the embarrassment and reality of what Blaine had come down there to do catching up to him.

"Hey, Blaine." Mike said, looking at him sympathetically. "Did you want to go in?"

Blaine flushed.

"It's just..." He blushed again. "I couldn't sleep and I just..."

Mike nodded. "You needed to be with him." he murmured lowly, eyes shining with compassion. "I get it, man. You didn't know Kurt was Porcelain. You can't help how you feel." He shook his head. "This must be hell." He whispered, moving aside to let Blaine in.

Blaine was slightly ashamed to feel tears prick his eyes.

"Thanks, Mike." He said gratefully, digging out his ID.

Mike shrugged again. "Nah, I get it." He smiled slightly. "My girlfriend, Tina, was studying abroad a few years ago and my dad died." he shrugged. "I know it's nothing compared to what you must be going through, but I know what it's like to need to be with the person you love when you're going through something trying."

"Oh I don't- I don't think I-" Blaine stopped when he saw Mike's knowing expression. "Do you think I do?" He asked.

Mike shrugged, smiling. "Well, you're here aren't you?" he asked, eyes shining. "You must be feeling pretty betrayed. But you're here."

Blaine nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat but failing.

"Yeah," he whispered, finally finding his ID card and swiping it. "Thanks, Mike. You're a good friend."

Mike snickered softly, even as the door beeped in admittance. They both knew that at best Mike and Blaine could be considered acquaintances. "Well, hopefully I'll become one." He offered and Blaine smiled.

He made a mental note to ask about Tina the next time he saw Officer Chang.

"Night," he said over his shoulder, and opened the door softly, stepping in and shutting it quietly behind him.

He took in the dark room quietly, sucking in a breath at sight of Kurt curled up in a ball on top of his cot, moonlight from the window above the bed bathing him beautifully, his pale skin almost fluorescent with the light hitting it. Lying there in sleep, he looked completely innocent.

He looked ethereal.

Blaine walked over to him quietly, slowly and softly and gently got onto the cot beside Kurt.

* * *

**Eleven Hours and Fifty One Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Kurt blinked as he felt the cot dip, and turned blearily. His eyes widened when he saw warm brown eyes staring down into his.

"Blaine?" He whispered in disbelief, eyes bleary as he yawned.

Blaine settled in behind him, his back bathed in warmth as soon as he slotted in behind him.

"Sh, baby" he murmured, burying his cold nose into his neck. "Go back to sleep."

And he did.

* * *

**A/N: The name of the chapter, Quesas, is the name of a Muslim law that gives a person who has suffered at the hands of another (normally corporal injuries, mind you) to inflict it on the person who caused them the pain. You can see why I thought that, as it _was _one of the few U crime related words, it fit best out of the others as a chapter name. **

**Also, side note, who else is _seriously _loving Mike Chang right now? Isn't he a sweetie pie? And, spoiler for next chapter, there may be a brief cameo from our favourite FBI agent and criminal consultant duo. Don't believe me? Read on.**

_Next on A Game of Cat and Mouse: _

_"Who is Porcelain?" Burke said and Blaine and Caffrey exchanged a brief look of exasperation._

_"Porcelain is the best active criminal in white collar _and_ art crime." Caffrey explained. "Before you caught me I was looking to work with him."_

_"Wait," Blaine said, turning to Caffrey. "You're _that _Neal Caffrey?"_  


_Caffrey nodded, smirking slightly. "In the flesh." he said unceremoniously._


	19. Chapter 18: Reputation

**A/N: You guys have no idea how much I'm looking forward to sharing this chapter with you! I hope you like the end as much as I do, and that you continue to review with your feedback! The amount of reviews over the last week was so insane, thank you so much everyone!**

**A**** Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

_Kurt blinked as he felt the cot dip, and turned blearily. His eyes widened when he saw warm brown eyes staring down into his. _

"_Blaine?" He whispered, yawning. _

_Blaine settled in behind him, his back bathed in warmth as soon as he slotted in behind him. _

"_Sh, baby" he murmured, burying his cold nose into his neck. "Go back to sleep." _

_And he did._

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Reputation**

**Seventeen Hours and Thirty Six Minutes After Kurt's Arrest**

_**New York City Times**_

_**Detective Anderson; Can He Be Trusted? **_

_The question on many of our lips lately is this, can we trust our government _

_to protect us? With the whole Anderson/Porcelain fiasco being thrown into the lime light,_

_especially with the Detective's refusal to answer questions about it_

_at the NYPD's Press Conference late last night, we at the **Times** have been forced to face_

_the fact that maybe our government can't. _

"How can I help you two gentleman?" Blaine asked, looking up at the two FBI agents standing in his office from the safe seat of his chair.

The first - who seemed to be the one in charge - was shorter, slightly tubbier and had less hair than the second; who was unabashedly nosing his way around Blaine's office, looking tall and slim in an undoubtedly expensive suit that was _much _nicer than the first agent's.

"Oh, I highly doubt you can," the shorter agent muttered cattily and then turned to the second agent and tried to murmur to him subtly. "Neal, _he _can't help us. Haven't you been reading what they've been saying about him in the newspapers-?"

The second agent snorted. "Come now, Peter." he said, chidingly, even as he began to open drawers on the other side of the room. "Surely you know better than that after what happened with me."

The first agent rolled his eyes. "That was a special circumstance-"

"How about," Blaine interrupted, his patience finally worn out completely - thin as it was with just a few hours sleep and multiple cups of coffee and hot orange chocolate being all that he was working on. "You just tell me why you're here and we'll go from there?"

The second agent grinned over the top of the files he'd began peering at, picking them up off of the top of Blaine's desk unabashedly.

"Neal," the first agent complained, without having to even look at him to know he was nosing. "Stop it."

Blaine waved his hand in dismissal. "It's fine." he said, "None of the important files are left lying around. And anything that _is _important which _were_ in that chest of drawers," he nodded to the one the second agent had been thoroughly searching earlier. "Have long been moved."

_With Kurt here I had needed to do that from the get go. _He thought, fondly to his slight horror.

The first agent nodded, slightly impressed, but Blaine saying this didn't dissuade the second agent from continuing to skim read his files.

"Anyway, why are you here agent...?"

"Burke," the first agent said,then inclined his head to indicate his partner. "And he's my consultant, Neal Caffrey."

_Not his partner then, _Blaine thought before dismissing the thought in order to reply. "Nice to meet you," He said politely, waiting expectantly.

"Right." Agent Burke said, tugging on his suit uncomfortably. "Well, lately we've been stuck on a case and a source of mine suggested I come to you for help."

Blaine nodded, not allowing the fact that he was slightly flattered despite himself to show on his face. "Okay, what's the case?"

Agent Burke pulled a file out of his briefcase and handed it to Blaine, opening his mouth to brief him on the case. However, before he could, Blaine snorted and threw the file down carelessly on the top of his desk. He'd looked at it for ten seconds, at the most.

"That," he said, indicating to the file. "Is the work of Porcelain. I'd recognise his M.O anywhere."

For the first time Caffrey was interested in their conversation, poking his head up from where he was reading meaningless papers. "Porcelain?" At Blaine's nod he went on. "I've been reading about his work in the papers for _years._"

"Yeah, he managed to elude us for quite some time-" Blaine began only to be interrupted by Burke, who had finished putting the file back away into his brief case after inferring from Blaine's easy dismissal of it that it was no longer needed.

"Who is Porcelain?" Burke said, glancing at Blaine and Caffrey in confusion when they exchanged a brief look of exasperation.

"Porcelain is the best active criminal in white collar _and _art crime." Caffrey explained. "Before you caught me I was looking to work with him."

"Wait," Blaine said, turning to Caffrey. "You're_ that _Neal Caffrey?"

Caffrey nodded, smirking slightly. "In the flesh." he said unceremoniously.

Blaine snorted, pulling a face, refusing to be impressed.

"Huh," he allowed and turned back to Burke.

"If he's such a big deal," Burke said, "why haven't we been assigned his case before now?"

Blaine snorted and Burke's attention turned to him.

"Because _I _am the lead detective on all Porcelain cases." Blaine said with slight pride. "Either way, it doesn't matter." Blaine said, turning back to observe Caffrey in order to make sure he didn't make off with anything. "We have him in our custody right now."

Agent Burke was keeping an eye on Caffrey too, Blaine noticed. He got the impression that Burke trusted Caffrey only a little more than he trusted Blaine – and to be honest he wasn't surprised, considering what he knew of Neal Caffrey's work.

Burke huffed, frustrated. "I suppose there was a mix up then," he said, pulling out the file he'd only just finished putting back into his brief case. "If it was known that you guys were taking care of it we wouldn't have been assigned it in the first place."

Blaine nodded, understanding the reason for Burke's aggravation. It was hard enough to keep track of files and cases as it was, never mind getting assigned cases already being handled by a different branch of law enforcement altogether.

"Here," Agent Burke said, throwing the file down on Blaine's desk. "You may as well keep this then."

Blaine nodded, sighing as he cracked his neck and offered Burke and Caffrey a weary smile. Noticing Burke's reluctant look of concern at Blaine's obvious exhaustion he forced another smile. "It's been a long day," Blaine said in explanation.

Burke smiled dryly and Blaine felt the warmth of comradeship swim through him. "I know how that is."

Blaine's smile widened just a little and he shook his head, standing up to shake Agent Burke and Caffrey's hands as he showed them out.

"Well, thanks for your help." Burke said and Blaine grinned wryly.

"No problem," he replied, knowing he hadn't really done all that much.

However, whilst Burke made to go on down the hall, Caffrey stayed in the doorway of Blaine's office, leaning against the frame with his hands shoved deep inside his trouser pockets.

"Detective Anderson," He started smoothly, smiling winningly. "Would it be possible for us to meet Porcelain?"

Blaine froze.

He's not seen Kurt since that morning. Blaine had gone to his holding cell sometime past five in the morning and was woken by an apologetic Mike Chang, who had poked his head through the door three hours later, at the end of his shift guarding Kurt's cell.

"_Sorry Blaine," _Mike had said regretfully. _"I'd love to let you stay, especially when you obviously really need the sleep, but my relief will be arriving soon and I doubt he'll be as cool about this as I was."_

Blaine had nodded understandingly, gently prying himself away from Kurt, - who had thrown his leg over Blaine's and had turned in his embrace at some point during the night – and stood to leave.

Blaine had then hesitated before pressing a gently kiss to Kurt's lips, quickly leaving even as Kurt began to stir.

Ironically enough, the thought of how Kurt must have felt to wake up alone caused him to feel more guilt than either of the one night stands he and Kurt had had together had ever made him feel.

Blaine looked into Caffrey's expectant face and tried come up with a reason why he and Agent Burke couldn't go see Kurt.

Thankfully, he didn't have to.

"Caffrey," Burke barked, from a ways down the hall. "Detective Anderson is under no obligation to take us to see Porcelain. We need to get back to the office and be assigned a new case." Caffrey grimaced in defeat and reluctantly moved to the agent's side.

"Besides," Burke continued, he and Caffrey walking down the hallway to the elevator in unison. "I hate to think of what chaos I'd be subjecting the city to if you and Porcelain had the chance to compare notes."

Blaine shook his head in amusement at how alike he and Agent Burke was. When he'd eventually gotten past his momentary feeling of horror at seeing Kurt again after leaving in that way that morning, he would have reacted in the negative to Caffrey's request with that exact same reason.

Blaine snorted and went back into his office, only to be interrupted from his attempt at sleep by a knock on his door.

He groaned and got up, heading to the door he'd closed.

"Yeah?" He said, blinking blearily at the delivery guy outside his door.

"Delivery for a Detective Blaine Anderson?" The man said, chewing gum as he looked at his clipboard nonchalantly.

Blaine nodded, rolling his eyes as he realised that it must be half past the hour.

"That's me," He said.

The delivery guy nodded and flipped his clipboard around so that it faced Blaine.

"Sign here," he said, pointing at an empty square box on the page, about halfway down.

Blaine took the pen from the delivery guy and quickly scrawled his signature in the designated place.

The man nodded, and handed over the box he had had in his other hand.

"Have a nice day." he said and Blaine nodded, yawning slightly.

"Thanks." He muttered. "You too."

He shuffled back into his office, shutting the door after him, and moved to his desk to set the box down.

He opened it to see his usual delivery of an Hot Orange Chocolate. However, there was also...

His heart warmed as he pulled out the Tupperware box of cookies. Feeling the container he could tell they were still warm and his chest felt like it would burst when he saw what the calling card stuck on the top of the Tupperware said.

_Kurt must have left them in the bottom oven,_ he thought distantly, holding the Tupperware box against his chest tightly, bowing his head over them as he tried hard not to cry. _And told Rachel where to find them so he could send them to me. There's no way Rachel made these._

He shook his head.

_I can't believe he remembered, _he thought desperately.

He'd told Kurt about how, before she died, his nan had made the best chocolate chip cookies _months _ago - before they were even together.

And the fact that Kurt had remembered, and then found the recipe his nan had used – probably from calling his horrible relatives (most of whom were homophobic and - knowing Kurt's background with homophobic people - talking with them would have been hard for him. Dealing with his family awarded him brownie points as it was.) - and then took the time to arrange it so they would be delivered to him at, he glanced at the clock, ten thirty in the morning, well...

Blaine shook his head in fond frustration, as tears pricked at his eyes.

Kurt kept making it harder and harder for Blaine to hate him.

_Especially_, Blaine thought, still clutching the cookies to his chest, _when he does something like this. _

Blaine laughed at himself and sniffed a little, walking around his desk to actually sit at it in his chair, pulling the box with his hot orange chocolate towards him, the Tupperware box still in his hand.

He pulled out the hot orange chocolate and, still feeling bemused at the lengths Kurt was going to, took a sip even as he opened the Tupperware box of cookies, letting the familiar smell wash over him.

Taking one out and replacing the lid of the box, Blaine took a big bite as he tried not to moan at the familiar taste.

Sitting there, having a breakfast of his nan's infamous chocolate chip cookies and '_the Lima Bean_'s Hot Orange Chocolate, Blaine thought back on how Kurt had brokenly sobbed out his _"I love you_" the day before when he'd first visited him in his holding cell. As he did this Blaine couldn't help but categorise the feeling the thoughts, food and drink were inducing in him distinctly of the _"I love you too," _variety.

After drinking his Hot Orange Chocolate and putting his cookies away, Blaine went back over to his sofa to once again attempt to sleep.

As he did so he left the calling card that Blaine had found on the Tupperware box lying on his desk from where he'd reluctantly dropped it after reading it.

_I love you_

_Kurt x_

* * *

**Eighteen Hours and Twenty One Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Peter glanced at Neal, who had been sitting for at least half an hour now, with one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, in the seat on the other side of his desk that was there for visitors to his office, and sulking.

Peter rolled his eyes.

"You're not_ still _annoyed that I wouldn't let you go see Porcelain, are you?" He asked incredulously, an eyebrow raised.

Neal huffed, gracefully moving so both feet were on the ground as he simultaneously lent forward. "You don't understand." Neal said, frustrated. "Porcelain is pretty much my equal and I've never had the opportunity to meet him. Earlier today I did." His eyes narrowed. "If you hadn't spoken up when you did earlier, I've no doubt that I would be happily chatting away to him as we speak."

Peter snorted. "Yeah, right." He said. "Detective Anderson may just be in the NYPD but he's got more sense than to allow two criminal masterminds in the same room as each other."

"_You've _read what they've been saying." Neal said impatiently. "Anderson and Porcelain were in a _relationship._" Peter's eyebrows furrowed. "Even though I only saw him for about five minutes it's obvious that the detective is incredibly confused about what he should be feeling and thinking at the moment. The mere _mention _of having to see his boyfriend again threw him off guard."

Peter considered this. "Yeah," he allowed. "He did seem a little out of sorts."

"Of _course _he did." the consultant seemed annoyed. "He only discovered that everything he thought he knew about the person he loved wasn't true _yesterday._ That does a lot to a person."

Peter eyed Neal cautiously, seeing the parallels. "Neal..."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Oh, get over it Peter." he said in frustration, taking up his former position once more. "Porcelain and Anderson's situation is completely different to mine."

* * *

**Eighteen Hours and Forty Three Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

_**New York City Times**_

_**Spotted! **_

_Detective Anderson was spotted crossing the NYPD Headquarters __early this morning on his _

_way back to his office which, funnily enough, is __allegedly just across from the building that, _

_among over things, hosts the holding cells._

_We at the _**Times ** _would like to know just what Anderson was doing __in Porcelain's cell so early in the morning_

_ and in the same clothes he was wearing during the press conference!_

Blaine scoffed in disgust, tossing the newspaper aside and lowering his head onto his desk forcefully.

Artie watched him do so from his chair, concerned and reluctantly a little amused at the sight of his friend going a little nuts. It was such a rare occurrence that he couldn't help but watch it while he could.

After more than a minute of the repeated banging Artie's amusement ebbed away and his concern came to the forefront.

"Blaine?" He called, eyeing his friend warily as the man in question didn't pause in his self abuse.

"Blaine, come on." As this got no more acknowledgement as his previous attempt, Artie stole himself. "Blaine, were you in Kurt's cell last night?"

This, at least, managed to get Blaine to stop, raising his head – his forehead a little red – to establish eye contact and then mutter weakly, "No,"

Artie rose an eyebrow. "Blaine...?" He said, his tone of voice holding a hint of warning.

Blaine winced and lowered his head once again, only to rest his forehead against the wood this time, not to continue hitting himself. "Maybe," he murmured into the desk.

"Blaine, that might not have been the best idea..."

"I know," Blaine moaned. "All I did was give those _vultures_," he practically spat the word, "more ammunition."

Artie's other eyebrow rose.

"Actually, I was referring to the fact that you doing so is effectively leading Kurt on."

Blaine's head snapped up and he spluttered.

"_What?"_

* * *

**Meanwhile: **

_**New York City Times**_

_**Spotted! **_

_Detective Anderson was spotted crossing the NYPD Headquarters _

_early this morning, on his way back to his office, which – funnily enough – is_

_allegedly just across from the building that, among over things, hosts the holding cells. _

_We at the _**Times ** _would like to know just what Anderson was doing _

_in Porcelain's cell, so early in the morning and in the same clothes he was wearing during the press conference!_

Kurt hummed in consideration as he finished reading the article and then, to his friends shock, tossed it aside.

"Interesting." he said nonchalantly. "Anyway. Kitty, Joe, it's so great to see you!"

Kitty and Joe exchanged glances.

They'd been meaning to visit Kurt for ages since hearing he'd got himself arrested. It had been nearly a month since Kurt had taken Blaine to the circus and Kitty was now four months pregnant.

He'd learnt that they'd left the circus until their baby was born from Rachel, the last time she'd visited, and of course he'd immediately instructed her to tell them they could stay in his room until they got on their feet in New York. They'd both had to get proper jobs for the first time since joining the circus in the first place and so it was a harried looking Joe and Kitty who were now sitting opposite him.

"That's it?" Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow as she gestured towards the discarded newspaper. "That's all you're going to say?"

Kurt rose an eyebrow in return. "If you want me to apologise for not telling you Blaine and I got together-"

Kitty rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You know I'm not that petty." It was true. She wasn't. "No, I want to know why the fuck you're not pissed off or worried or, hell, even _pleased _that everyone in New York knows that you and the detective are fucking."

If Kurt were a lesser man he would have blanched at how crudely Kitty put things. As it was all he did was snicker.

Despite how good she was at concealing her emotions Kitty couldn't hide from Kurt that she was obviously pleased that she'd gotten laughter out of Kurt; who looked so unlike himself from spending less than a day in the NYPD's best holding cell.

"Kitty," Kurt said, amused. "I couldn't care less that everyone in New York knows that Blaine and I are fucking. In fact, I don't see why you two chose to get off your butts to see me for _this_."

_This _was, obviously, the newspaper article.

"Bullshit." Kitty smirked as Kurt turned to Joe, shocked at his use of profanity and the seriousness with which he uttered it.

"Excuse me?" Kurt asked, so shocked that he couldn't think to say anything else.

"You heard me." Joe said, his normal easy going persona decidedly absent from his voice. "Bullshit." He poked the article. "You know full well that me and Kitty didn't come here for this dumb, gossiping, piece of shit, article." He glanced towards Kitty and she took over.

"We came," she stressed. "Because we knew you'd be feeling like shit after _Anderson _came and left, sneaking out in the morning like you're just some one night stand and not his boyfriend." She eyed him. "I mean, he didn't break up with you when you were arrested did he? And he hasn't broken up with you since then either, has he?"

As if in order to answer her question Kurt's face crumpled as his dam broke and the tears it had been holding back were released.

* * *

**In Blaine's Office: **

"_What?" _

"You're leading him on Blaine." Artie continued seriously as Blaine could do nothing but blink at Artie taking such a stand against him. Artie was normally on _his _side.

"No I'm-" Blaine started to protest.

"Yes you are!" Artie insisted. "Blaine, Kurt told you he_ loves _you. He's told you more than once." He nodded towards the calling card Blaine had received late that night (or early that morning, depending on how you view it) and what Blaine had stuck subtly on his pin board. "And you going to him in the dead of night, and then _leaving _him in the morning is sending him incredibly mixed signals." Artie carried on recklessly. Finally getting to say what he'd held in for so long was an enormous relief. "You probably snuck out before he'd even woken up-" At the sight of guilt on Blaine's face Artie's jaw fell. "_Fuck_, Blaine, you _did?_"

"I didn't want to wake him," Blaine explained weakly, "and Mike's replacement was coming-"

"That's no excuse and you know it, Blaine!" Artie exclaimed. "Blaine, you need to sort out how you feel before you see him again. I mean it," he added sternly when Blaine opened his mouth to protest. "You have to decide whether you want to work through this and carry on the relationship or if you want to give up. You're just going to keep hurting the both of you if you don't."

* * *

**With Kurt:**

As if in order to answer her question Kurt's face crumpled as his dam broke and the tears it had been holding back were released.

"Oh shit," Joe said when tears started streaming down Kurt's face.

Kitty was immediately off her feet and round the table, gathering him up in a hug as best she could with his hands handcuffed to a ring on the stainless steel table.

She shot Joe a look of reprimand as their friend sobbed on her shoulder and Joe held up his hands defensively.

After five minutes of solid crying and Kitty trying to mumble comforting words – doing an incredible job mind you, she really _was _going to be an incredible mother – to Kurt and making soothing noises, Kurt's sobbing finally let up enough for Kitty and Joe to make out words.

"He," _sob, _"left," _cry, _"when I was" _snort, _"a-a-a_sleeppppp_," Kurt broke out into fresh tears and Kitty clutched him helplessly.

"Oh, Kurt." she said, looking over at Joe frantically as he hiccuped into her shirt.

The next time he tried to speak he was more legible.

"I felt so_ bad." _He whimpered. "I woke up and he was _gone. _Like he was using me and I was just some dirty s-secret." He sniffed.

"God, Kurt." Kitty said, eyeing him sadly. "It sucks so bad that you don't have access to ice cream here."

Kurt chuckled wetly, the result sounding more like a sob than a laugh.

"Don't you worry, Kurt." Joe spoke up fiercely and the two turned to him, just remembering he was in the room. When they did so they were taken aback at the look of rage on his face. "He'll regret it."

Kurt shook his head, trying to smile as he sniffed.

"It's okay, Joe. I'm sure Blaine didn't know that him leaving like that would affect me like this."

Joe nodded, just to show he'd heard what Kurt had said, but when Kurt was mopping himself up with the tissue Kitty handed him the two circus performers exchanged looks. They were in agreement that Blaine Anderson would be getting a visit from them, and soon.

* * *

**Nineteen Hours and One Minute After Kurt's Arrest: **

Artie had left at least ten minutes before but Blaine couldn't seem to get his words out of his head.

_Had _he been leading Kurt on?

A knock on the door of his office interrupted his thoughts and, gratefully, he called, "Come in."

He looked up to see, to his immense shock, Joe Hart and a blonde woman, whose belly was rounded slightly and, as her hand was placed on it protectively, Blaine inferred that she was pregnant.

"Joe?" He asked, confused, standing up to offer his hand to the circus performer to shake. "What are you doing here? And who's this?"

He retracted his hand when it became obvious that Joe wasn't going to shake it.

"I'm Kitty." The blonde woman said, and Blaine's mind flashed back to when Kurt took him to the circus a month ago and Joe had came up to Kurt in a panic, saying Kitty couldn't perform. "Joe's fiancée."

She stalked forwards, her feet clad in high heels that increased her height, as Joe hung back, his arms crossed, and with his face stoic and free from emotion he looked incredibly intimidating – the muscles in his arms bulging.

Blaine's head snapped to the side when, with a _crack_, the petite blonde woman slapped him sharply across the face.

Blaine's hand came up to cradle the, now red, cheek on reflex and, looking at the woman with wide eyes, he managed to yelp out a "What was that for?"

"Guess who we just came back from visiting?" Kitty asked sweetly, ignoring his response, and Blaine knew it was a rhetorical question. "Kurt." she said flatly, her face twisted in rage.

"Oh..." Blaine said weakly, eyes flitting from between Joe and Kitty. "How is he?"

"Ha!" Kitty barked furiously. "As if you don't know!"

At Blaine's blank look she huffed in frustration and snatched the newspaper up off of Blaine's desk.

"How do you think he is?" She asked angrily, stabbing the article on the front page that Blaine knew was about him leaving Kurt's holding cell.

He cautiously voiced his confusion. "Kurt wouldn't care that everybody would infer from this that we're sleeping together..."

"No, and he doesn't." Kitty confirmed, chest heaving in anger. "But you succeeded in making him feel like a piece of shit when you left him like that this morning." Blaine froze as his stomach plummeted. Kitty ignored his look of absolute horror as she gestured at a damp spot on her shoulder. "Do you know what this is?" She asked furiously. "This is where Kurt sobbed on my shoulder for our entire visit. We didn't know what he was upset about until he barely managed to choke it out between sobs."

Blaine's entire world fell apart as her words confirmed what Artie had said before.

"What?" He gasped, broken.

Kitty continued on ruthlessly, having not heard what he'd said through her anger. She'd been cussing him out for at least three minutes before she felt Joe's hand prodding her shoulder and him calling her name.

"What?" she snapped, turning to her fiancé.

"Look at him," he murmured, eyes going to Blaine.

She did and her anger ebbed away slowly at the look of regret and horror and gut wrenching _pain _on the detective's face, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other clawing at his throat as his eyes shined with tears at the knowledge he'd hurt Kurt so badly.

It immediately became clear to her that if he _had _known how his leaving Kurt when he slept would make his boyfriend feel, he'd been in denial about it.

Kurt being Porcelain or not, Blaine had always _hated _hurting Kurt, even when they'd only known each other a few weeks and weren't together.

"I- I need to go see Kurt," Blaine got out and Joe nodded seriously.

"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea."

Blaine nodded frantically in return and went to rush out of his office.

"I-" he got out, turning to the couple still standing in his office, his eyes flashing to Kitty's swollen belly and their joint hands, Kitty's engagement ring gleaming. "Congratulations." he said hurriedly, and Kitty felt herself smile reluctantly as he left.

She turned to Joe.

"He might not be as bad as I thought." She said and Joe snorted, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

"You think?" He murmured.

* * *

**Nineteen Minutes and Eleven Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

It had only taken a minute for Kurt to begin crying again once Kitty and Joe had left and he'd been led back to his cell.

He just couldn't seem to help it, and it was incredibly embarrassing as he really wasn't much of a crier normally.

But every time he stopped, the thoughts came to him. How he'd felt when he'd woken up and the door was closing behind Blaine. How he'd ran up to the door to try and stop him and had been too late. The thoughts that had ran through his head after that moment and every moment since then. How Blaine must not want him any more, how he hated him, how he must not love him even a little bit, how he'd never forgive him...

Mike had knocked on the door hesitantly when he'd first heard the sobs. "Kurt?" He had called. "You okay?"

He'd not gotten a response and he'd stopped trying after a few times, however he was still incredibly concerned, listening and concerned on the other side of the door. So when Mike saw Blaine hurrying towards him, practically running in his haste, he'd been relieved.

"Blaine," he'd nearly shouted. "Dude, I'm so glad you're here." he gestured helplessly to the door where the sound of muffled sobs could be heard. "He's been doing that for near on twenty minutes now," he said frantically. "I tried to talk to him, but I don't have clearance to go in except for emergencies, and I doubt that Sue would count this as an emergency."

"It's okay Mike," Blaine panted, eyes roving. With his wild gaze and hair free from gel he looked pretty deranged, not to mention desperate. "Just- let me in."

"Of course," Mike said, quickly moving aside. "Yeah."

Blaine didn't even close the door behind him, rushing to where Kurt was crying on the cot and gathering him in his arms.

The sound of the door clicking shut rang through his mind, and Blaine thanked Mike mentally, even as he made comforting noises to Kurt, running his hand up and down his back and pressing kisses on every part of his boyfriend he could reach.

"Kurt I'm sorry," he breathed as he did so, aching at the fact he'd hurt Kurt so badly that this was the result. The filter between his mind and mouth broke and the things he'd been thinking since dashing from his office ten minutes or so before came spilling out. "I'm so sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..."

* * *

The instant he'd felt Blaine's arms around him Kurt had curled into his embrace, pressing his face into his shoulder as his chest heaved with his sobs.

He'd inhaled the scent of musk, chocolate, ink and the slight tint of metal (from his gun, probably) and the fact that it was Blaine holding him seemed to finally register, even though he'd known who it was the instant he'd been touched.

His sobs started to slow and by the time they were just hiccups the words that Blaine was murmuring registered.

"-sorry, so sorry, I love you, I love you, I-"

He stopped when he felt Kurt stiffen his arms and his arms relaxed when he felt Kurt trying to raise his head.

Their eyes met, Kurt's blue eyes the colour of spring rain, the tears reinforcing the imagery, and Kurt's heart melted when he saw Blaine's brown eyes were wet too.

Blaine brought his head down to rest his forehead on Kurt's as he murmured the words that he'd kept repeating like a mantra one more time.

"I love you," he said softly, yet clearly, confident and decided.

"You love me," Kurt repeated his words, eyes wide in wonder, and with a sigh he closed the gap between their lips.

It felt like it was their first kiss all over again, despite the fact that their first kiss had happened months ago, lost in a hazy unromantic night of alcohol induced passion. It tasted like the salt of Kurt's tears, and so it was very wet, but perfect.

When they surfaced for air Kurt couldn't seem to stop staring at Blaine, who had a soft smile on his face.

"What?" Blaine whispered and Kurt smiled for what felt like the first time in years as Blaine's head began to lower once again.

"You know what." He murmured back.

And as their lips met they knew that neither of them were going to speak for a long time, and neither of them thought that they had to.

* * *

_Next time on A Game of Cat and Mouse: _

_"Okay," Blaine said, turning from the evidence piled on the coffee table, "Round all of this evidence up and send it to forensics. With this evidence, the eyewitness account and the statement from his room-mate, we have more than enough to arrest and convict... Hummel."_


	20. Chapter 19: Search Warrant

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

_Previously on A Game of Cat and Mouse:_

"_What?" Blaine whispered and Kurt smiled for what felt like the first time in years as Blaine's head began to lower. _

"_You know what." He murmured back. _

_And then no one spoke for a long time._

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Search Warrant**

**Seventeen Hours and Fifty One Minutes After Kurt's Arrest: **

Kurt looked at his watch, which was really the only thing he did in his holding cell to entertain himself.

That, thinking and sometimes even singing to himself.

If it was Mike standing guard outside his cell Kurt would be able to hear him applaud when he finished from his cot.

However if it was the other man who took over every six hours (that was the guard rotation. Mike for six hours, then the other man for the next and so on. Kurt was honestly shocked that Blaine hadn't advised them on how to best contain him. If Kurt had any interest in being out of his cell he would have been able to get out easily, considering there was only two guards and they had a predictable rotation pattern) then he'd make sure to sing softly. For some reason the other guard, (Tony, Kurt thought he'd heard Mike call him), didn't like him very much. As far as he could tell he didn't like many people, if his reaction to when Blaine came down to see him was any indication.

He liked to sing Beatles songs, changing the pitch so that he'd be able to sing it easier in his voice (even though he often could hit the low notes, it was much more comfortable singing in his naturally high voice and since he was just doing it to entertain himself it hardly mattered.)

Kurt had taken to looking at his watch to see when every half hour came about.

He liked to imagine Blaine's reaction to the drinks he kept receiving. The last time Artie had come down to visit him he'd described his first reaction in detail, having been lucky enough to have been there in order to witness it. He kept track of which notes had been sent with each drink. Kurt had given Rachel explicit instructions on the order of which each note was to be sent.

But it was this particular half hour that had him more nervous than usual.

He'd done something a bit extravagant.

When Kurt had been planning ahead for his inevitable arrest he'd thought back on things he could do in order to try and win back Blaine's – if not his trust, at the very least his affections (and he knew then that that was something he no longer had to worry about). And he'd remembered something Blaine had said in passing before they'd even gotten together.

* * *

**A Few Months Before: **

_Ever since Blaine and Kurt had decided they needed to start learning more about each other that day that Karofsky attempted to kill him and tied up Rachel for hours he and Blaine had begun talking about themselves and their pasts. _

_Of course Kurt couldn't tell him _anything _really substantial about his high school experience, as it mostly consisted of people harassing him because he was (or they assumed he was) gay and him getting even through less than legal methods, but asides from that he tried to tell the truth as much as he could. _

_In this way he learnt numerous things about Blaine and vice versa. For instance, Kurt learnt that Blaine had slept with a teddy bear up until he was twelve and wet the bed until he was nine. In turn Blaine learnt Kurt adored thunderstorms, wasn't afraid of the dark but was petrified of black outs. _

_They would exchange these little tid bits of information whenever they could find the time to do so. Over coffee in the nearest coffee shop to them at any given time (excluding, of course, _the Lima Bean_. Across to each other in a van loaned out by the NYPD when on stake outs. In the cafeteria when Emma and Will weren't there so that when they divulged embarrassing information they wouldn't be blackmailed later on. _

_Whenever and wherever they had a few spare seconds one of them would spit out a little trivial piece of information about themselves that built up their very being. _

_Blaine and Kurt had been standing outside of Sue's office, waiting for Sue to finish up with whoever she was arguing with over the phone (Kurt had ten dollars on it being Figgins, whilst Blaine said that she would have reminded him about whatever thing she had on him before he could even _think _about beginning an argument.) so that they could go in and get a new case. _

_Blaine, who Kurt could tell was uncomfortable listening to Sue arguing with someone due to his parents screaming at each other all the time when he was young, had glanced over to him, anxiety sparking up in eyes and, hurriedly, he'd spat out, "When I was a kid my nan would make the best chocolate chip cookies and I'd always try to steal them straight off of the cooling rack and burn my hand."_

_Kurt had smirked, concern in his eyes. "And what made your nan's chocolate chip cookies better than any regular old chocolate chip cookies?" His question dismissed Blaine's obvious distress at Sue's yelling, something he knew Blaine would appreciate._

_Blaine relaxed a little, recognising the olive branch, and responded. "She had a secret ingredient. Besides, the recipe had been passed down the females on her side of the family for generations."_

_Kurt shot him a look and Blaine laughed, explaining. "It's not a gender thing." He assured. "It's more of a Italian thing. In Italy the women tended to cook more and so the recipe goes down to the women. Us guys got other things."  
_

_Kurt smirked. "What, like gondola tips 101?" _

_Blaine glared half heartedly as Kurt snickered. "Very funny." He said, rolling his eyes. But he knew that Kurt knew he wasn't serious. And that he was grateful for the distraction. _

_Blaine sighed. "Man," he said, shaking his head almost as if in apology. "I'd give anything for another one of my nan's cookies." _

_Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Well, can't you ask her to make some the next time you go visit? I mean, there must be _some _people in your family who don't care that you're gay." _

_That was another thing Blaine had told him. How he'd been disowned by practically his entire family when he came out. _

"_Yeah, nan and Coop were pretty much the only ones who didn't care." Blaine admitted. "Coop's my brother," He added and Kurt nodded. _

"_I remember." He assured Blaine. _

"_Anyway," Blaine continued, as if Kurt hadn't said anything. "It wouldn't exactly be easy to get another one of my nan's chocolate chip cookies. She died a few years ago." _

_Kurt's heart ached. _

_"I'm sorry," he said apologetically, his brow furrowing in guilt, but Blaine just waved it away. _

"_It's fine." He promised. "You didn't know."  
_

_Kurt nodded, still annoyed at his own lack of tact. _

"_If it's any consolation," he offered. "My mom died when I was seven."_

"_Oh, Kurt." Blaine said, eyes shining in sorrow. "That's terrible. I'm so sorry."  
_

_Kurt smiled a little, shaking his head. "It's fine. It was a long time ago. Anyway," he continued, smiling. "It's not like it was sudden. She was sick for a long time."_

_Blaine shook his head, insistent. "That doesn't make it any less sad." He said. "You and your mom were close, weren't you?" _

_Kurt nodded. "Yeah." He admitted. _

"_Just 'cause you were only seven when she died doesn't mean you don't miss her." Blaine said. "I mean, I was sixteen when my nan died and I still miss her."_

_Kurt shook his head in awe, smiling at Blaine and how compassionate he could be. _

"_What?" Blaine asked, noticing his look and feeling kind of self-conscious all of a sudden. _

"_Nothing," Kurt said, smiling slightly. "It's just... You're kind of amazing,"  
_

_Blaine grinned goofily. "Thanks Kurt." His smile widened, his eyes sparkling again. "You're kind of amazing too."_

* * *

Kurt missed him. Blaine. And when he'd woken up that morning to see a quick flash of his hair, curly and free from it's restraints of gel, as he left his holding cell, Kurt had felt the hope that had ballooned up in him that evening when Blaine had lain down beside him on his cot deflate, and he'd felt terrible about himself, and was more convinced than ever that Blaine would never forgive him.

He sighed, cracking his neck, and then glanced at his watch again. It was almost quarter to eleven. Kurt shifted on his cot. Puck would be there soon. That was the only thing that kept him from going to sleep right there and then, to be perfectly honest.

Other than the arrangements he'd made with Rachel for Blaine's deliveries he'd also told her to get Puck to visit him at eleven the day after his arrest.

Like he'd said to Rachel the day she'd visited.

He had a plan.

* * *

**Eighteen Hours and Twenty One Minutes After Kurt's Arrest:**

Puck glanced at his escort as they made their way to Kurt's holding cell.

He was tall, although not as tall as him, with blonde hair that looked like it was dyed. And though he looked like he worked out a lot in his spare time Puck was confident he'd be able to take him if it came to that.

He was hoping that Kurt had told Rachel to tell him to visit Kurt in his holding cell so that he could help him break out, never mind the fact that Rachel had _told _him that Kurt was planning on letting them arrest him and that, had he wanted to, Kurt could break out by himself any time he wanted to. He certainly had the skill for it and, looking around at the meagre security the boys in blue had put in place to contain Kurt, it wouldn't exactly be all that difficult.

Puck made a mental note to ask Kurt about that. From what he knew of Anderson, of what Kurt had told him from before they'd actually properly met and after they had, he knew that Anderson knew exactly what Kurt was capable of and should have told them to put better security in place.

He locked his frame as the officers, blondie and a pretentious looking asshole who'd been standing guard outside of Kurt's actual holding cell, began to frisk him quickly and professionally. He tried not to smirk as they did so. He had about fifty seven different weapons scattered about his person but the two officers would never be able to feel them on him. They may be good at their job, but he was too.

When he was finally cleared to enter the room adjourning Kurt's cell he made a mental note of the guards' position on the doors, a list of their physical weaknesses and strengths already memorised.

They shut the door behind him and Puck was immediately flitting around the room to check for bugs.

As he did so he saw Kurt roll his eyes.

"There's no bugs Puck." He said and Puck instantly stopped what he was doing and moved over to where Kurt was chained to the stainless steel table by the ankles.

Puck rolled his eyes at the shitty protection.

He snorted.

"_I _could break out of those." he said scathingly, motioning to the weak cuffs that were no doubt biting into Kurt's ankles.

Kurt rolled his eyes in response, although it also might have had something to do with how Puck had positioned himself in response to the doorway.

He'd not even bothered to sit down, instead standing beside Kurt, a little behind him, so that if anyone entered the room and were meaning to attack he'd be in the least vulnerable position, and in the best position to protect both himself and Kurt.

"Alright Hummel," Puck said, keeping one eye on the door and letting the other assess Kurt. His eyes flashed in anger at Kurt's eyes, which were bloodshot (possibly from lack of sleep or crying, likely from both) and that both had dark circles underneath them. "What's the plan?"

Kurt leant forward.

"You know how I was taken in to be the departments consultant when I was arrested for-"

"-Public indecency. Right." Puck rolled his eyes. When asked Kurt would refuse to specify exactly how he'd been publicly indecent enough to be arrested in _New York._

"Well," he shrugged, looking at Puck meaningfully before holding his arms up and rattling the chains as if to say '_well, I'm on my way to get arrested again, now I just need to be rehired as the criminal consultant'_.

Puck's eyes widened.

"Shit!" He exclaimed in reluctant awe. "So when Rachel said you didn't intend to go to jail you really meant it, huh!"

Kurt smirked.

"Of course,"

They settled down to make plans so that Puck could begin the inquiries on Kurt's behalf, talking in hushed murmurs so that those outside wouldn't be able to hear.

And when Puck left, after his fifteen minutes were up, Kurt was shocked when he wasn't immediately led back to his holding cell.

His eyes widened when Kitty and Joe were led into the room, Kitty with a newspaper in hand.

* * *

**Twenty Hours and Four Minutes After Kurt's Arrest:**

Blaine woke with a groan when someone knocked on the door to his office.

He'd came back from Kurt's holding cell about an hour before. They hadn't talked much. Mostly they just kissed and... Anyway, they didn't talk much. They didn't talk about them. They just knew that they loved each other and they were still boyfriends.

He rolled off of his sofa with another tired moan, swinging his legs around to place his feet on the floor, rubbing his eyes even as he glanced at his watch.

_Twenty five minutes to one. _He thought, arching his back and sighing when it cracked.

"Come in." he croaked, wincing at the foul taste in his mouth. He got up and went to his desk, searching for the toothbrush and toothpaste he kept there even as the door to his office opened behind him.

"Blaine," Artie called and Blaine weakly shot him a tired smile. And, despite his exhaustion, he was the happiest he'd been since the whole thing had started.

"_You know what," _Kurt's voice came back to him. He barely suppressed a full out grin.

"Hey Artie," he said, applying toothpaste to his brush. "What can I do for you?"

Artie wheeled forward, a folder on his lap. He stopped once he got to the other side of Blaine's desk.

"The search warrant came in a few minutes ago."

Blaine gulped. "Great." He tried to say, but all that came out was a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Great." Blaine pretended not to see Artie's concerned expression and, so that he didn't have to say anything, shoved his toothbrush into his mouth and began to scrub vigorously.

Blaine inclined his head towards his desk, indicating that Artie should put the warrant down there, even as he continued scrubbing his teeth furiously.

Artie stayed there silently for a minute or so but when it became clear that Blaine was not going to say anything else he sighed and, defeated, wheeled his way out of Blaine's office.

"Bye Blaine," he called behind him, sounding tired.

Blaine blinked, still brushing his teeth even as his eyes pricked with tears. Blinking them back Blaine was glad he could blame them on the toothpaste, even though he knew it would be a lie.

Blaine grabbed one of the empty take out cups that had built up over the time Kurt had had drinks sent to him, and cleaned his brush in it once it'd been filled with water, which he then proceeded to throw out of his window onto the street below.

Once that was done his eyes went to the search warrant and he sighed, leaning against his desk heavily.

With another sigh he picked himself up and, leaning over to grab the warrant, said quietly. "Guess I'd better get this over with."

Five minutes later had him calling Sue to set up the search.

* * *

**Twenty Hours and Fifty Six Minutes After Kurt's Arrest:**

Blaine looked blankly at the evidence he'd found scattered around Kurt's apartment.

Some of the stuff was things they knew Porcelain had made off with; the Dali painting from the Venus Over Manhattan gallery, the Rose diamond. Others was things they'd never even noticed was missing and that, after a quick call to where they were meant to be exhibited, were confirmed to be real; matching gold statues from an Mayan exhibit, a tiara from a rich heiresses treasury, other odd bits and pieces that were priceless and Kurt had seemingly taken a liking to.

Blaine took a deep breath. Finding Kurt's stash made the fact that he was Porcelain hit him all over again.

"_What?" _

"_You know what." _

Blaine shook his head. Kurt was Porcelain. He knew that. That didn't change anything. (At least it didn't change anything that hadn't already been changed before.)

Knowing that the team of officers that Sue had granted him would be waiting for instruction he snapped back to attention.

"Okay," he said, turning from the evidence piled on the coffee table, "Round all of this evidence up and send it to forensics. With this evidence, the eyewitness account and the statement from his room-mate, we have more that enough to arrest... Hummel."

* * *

**At the Same Time: **

"Do we have a deal?"

Sue lent back in her chair, pondering as she assessed the man in front of her. Tall, clean shaven and rather handsome Hummel's lawyer, a Mr Grant Gustin, looked like he belonged in a court room.

She found herself nodding.

"Yeah." She said, finally, leaning forward to shake his hand. "We have a deal."

She pulled the documents the lawyer had had drawn up towards her and signed all the required lines.

"Great." Gustin smiled charmingly. "We'll be in touch."

Sue nodded, eyes staying on the where the man had sat long after he left.

* * *

**Immediately After: **

Sebastian smirked, swinging his brief case a little, but didn't let himself break character until he was in a cab and driving away from the New York Police Department's headquarters.

He slid his phone out of his suit jacket and tapped Puck's image quickly, bring it up to his ear.

"Puckerman," he said, smirking. "Tell Hummel that it's done. She signed."

* * *

**Twenty One Hours and Twenty Seven Minutes: **

After forensics had had time to process all of the artifacts and paintings, confirming that the fingerprints that were on them belonged to Kurt, Blaine found himself leading two other officers into Kurt's holding cell. (Thankfully the smell of sex seemed to have faded.)

Kurt looked up at his entrance, the look of hope that had begun to spark up dying immediately.

Blaine could have killed himself in that moment. However Kurt did look noticeably happier, and that made him feel a little better.

Motioning to the two guards they handcuffed him while Blaine reread him his rights.

The two guards and Blaine himself escorted Kurt to a car that was outside, waiting to drive him to New York Prison, where he'd wait until his trial.

Blaine snorted mentally.

_Yeah, _he thought sarcastically. _And we all know how the jury are going to vote. _His eyes narrowed in concern.

Blaine was at the head of the group, making sure no one was approaching them from the front, so he didn't notice when a mixed race man, bulging with muscles and wearing a baseball cap, brushed up against Kurt's hands, who immediately clenched them around whatever the other man had pressed into them.

Kurt was firmly pressed into the car, the doors in the back seat locked and one of Kurt's hands free, the other handcuffed to the handle of the door. Kurt glanced at the men in the front, Blaine and one of the other escorts, and then looked down at the note Puck has passed him, unfolding it expertly with his thumb.

He smirked, clenching his hand around the paper.

_We got her_

* * *

**A/N: I hope it was obvious enough that everything that happened before Artie told Blaine that the search warrant had arrived happened before the end of last chapter happened :) And guys, don't be surprised if there's no update for a few weeks. I'm going back to school next Wednesday and things are sure to be hectic!**


End file.
